


In the Day

by DiazTuna



Series: There is Nothing Simple [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate season 7, F/F, Fluff with an angst center
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 63,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23196193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiazTuna/pseuds/DiazTuna
Summary: Their son's heart is poisoned. And they are only stories inside the pages of a book. Emma and Regina must race to heal his heart and break the curse that keeps them apart.Alternate season seven B. Sequel to In The Night. Part 2 of 2.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Series: There is Nothing Simple [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667656
Comments: 160
Kudos: 209





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rexinasofia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexinasofia/gifts).



> I thought we could use a little more magic considering well, everything. Thank you to Sweets who is the real MVP here. EDIT: AND THANK YOU FOR THE BEST COVERS THIS STORY COULD HAVE ASKED FOR. 
> 
> If you've accidentally ended up here without reading In The Night, go read that first over [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21077378/chapters/50144015)
> 
> I'll be updating every Friday.

_Rain fell thick and hard over the metal roof. But it was not the sound that woke him but a spray of water. Faint but enough to make him worry about his daughter. He knew wooden shutters didn’t always hold against storms. Ella laid undisturbed next to him, they always joked that she could sleep through cannon fire. He breathed in the scent of the night as he slipped from the bed and headed to the nursery._

_This house was nothing like the house that brought him up. The wood creaked and it stood on tall pillars above the ground to protect it from flooding. No brick or cinder to keep it strong. Painted in a shade of yellow that reminded him of Emma. He strategically stepped on the floorboards, careful as ever when he walked past his mother’s room. He might have grown a beard but he was still her son._

_The door to the nursery was half way open and he recognized the orange tinge from the gas lamp._

_“Durme, durme, sin ansia i dolor.” His mother sang, her voice mixed in with the rain. “Cierra tus luzyos ojitos.”_

_He should have known she would beat him to it. He smiled as he stepped inside._

_Her dark hair was curled and her cotton robe trailed behind her as she rocked Lucy in her arms. He was convinced she was immortal, looking just as he remembered her as a boy. Even after years in this land._

_“That was always my favorite.” He said quietly as he approached her._

_“Your grandfather sang it to me every night, he had the most beautiful voice.” She had sensed him come in, her expression was serene as the breeze. “It’s a family tradition.”_

_“Like apples and honey.” He whispered as he gently lifted Lucy from his mother’s arms._

_His daughter kicked and cooed, delighted to see him. And he thought then, with that brightness in Lucy’s eyes, that she took after his mother. A Swan just as much as a Mills._

_“Was she crying?” He asked because he could not think of Emma. Not mention her to his mother standing here with him._

_“Just barely,” She ran a thumb along Lucy’s chin. “I heard her stirring when the storm began.”_

_“And now little Miss Mills is too hyped to go back to sleep.” He stretched his lips into a grin as Lucy’s fingers grabbed at his nose. “Isn’t she?”_

_“You were much worse at that age”_

_He feigned offense as he looked at her. His mother shook her head in amusement._

_“The lullaby works like a charm.” She began to hum and Henry knew to follow._

_“Dume, durme, querida hijica,” He amended the words so that they fit his daughter.”Durme, durme sin ansia ni dolor.”_

“Mind going around the block?” His passenger asks snapping Henry away from his thoughts. “Front door’s at the other side and don’t wanna get caught in the rain.” 

“Sure.” He says trying to focus on the sound of the wipers clearing the water away. 

He thought he was done writing. Done telling a story nobody had wanted to read. But here he is. Conjuring up scenes as he drives around Seattle. It’s like an old injury, aches with the rain. Henry feels it in his chest, spreading whenever he thinks of the names he’d made up. The ones he had not and were now making their way into his thoughts. Henry thinks, for only a second, that if he wrote it down. If he wrote down the story it would leave him be. Slip away from his mind, stop wishing for a life he never had. 

“Here’s good.” His passenger tells him as they open the door. “Thanks man.” 

“No problem.”

A new alert pops up on his phone. Another passenger ten blocks away. Long drive to the edge of the city, just across a deli that sells the biggest pastrami sandwiches he’s ever seen. He remembers promising Roni he would bring her dinner and check up on her. Talk her into seeing a doctor. He’ll stop by Jacinda’s after. He’ll think of an excuse along the way. 

He makes a left and sighs in relief. Glad to have his mind busy with something other than his old stories. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. An explanation, a bar, and a bookstore

Rain is pouring outside, drowning out any other sound. Emma feels her chest lighter, she doesn’t know what to do with herself. What to do with her hands that are running cold. It’s always cold in this apartment. She’s never minded it but Regina is next to her, quiet under a blanket. Regina, who is not Roni anymore, always kept a roaring fire in her study. Kept her rooms warm, let heat take over in the kitchen. Emma moves to try and hit the radiator into working but a hesitant hand stops her. 

“Please.” Regina breathes out.

Emma nods. Knowing her head is still swimming. She remembers what that feels like. Trying to reconcile two lives into one. She squeezes Regina’s hand, something she only came to learn in this place. Where it feels like she is allowed. To be this close, to feel Regina’s skin under her fingertips. 

“It’s been years since I last saw you,” Regina begins with a shudder. “Or not really, I suppose.” 

Air gets caught in her throat. She shuts her eyes for a second. Emma’s heart beats anxiously against the bone. 

“First time with a second set of memories, huh?” 

“I’d say I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy,” The corners of her lips turn upward. “Except I already have.” 

“At least your sense of humor is intact.” 

Regina shakes her head and lies back against the couch Emma knows is too springy. She could have never imagined her in a place like this. Never pictured her anywhere but Mifflin Street. Out where the air doesn’t smell of spices and a perfume Emma could never say she had memorized. 

“How long has it been for you?” Regina asks as her hand clings to the blanket’s synthetic material. 

“Almost two months.” She tries on a smile, because she needs to be strong now. “Left as soon as I got your postcard in the mail.” 

The brown of her eyes looks lighter. Emma had learned some time ago that meant surprise with her. They had looked that way too before she kissed her. After she kissed her and Emma could taste the mint of Regina’s drink on her lips.

“Emma, I’m so sorry.” 

“Sorry for what?” Emma turns so that she faces her. Tries to forget the taste of mint.

“For dragging you out of your life. For making you come try and clean up my mess.” Her voice is weary and mournful. “Again.” 

“You didn’t drag me out of anything, Regina.” It’s not anger she feels, but _goddammit_ , she wants to say. Goddammit, this isn’t her fault. “Your postcard only showed me the way. I _chose_ to come.”

“To think I was so... confused as to why you left. Why you wouldn’t say...” It isn’t the truth, not all of it. “I guess the joke is on me.” 

“How did you manage it? To send it, I mean.” It’s hard to keep it all straight. “With Ivy’s curse and…” 

“Ivy’s?” Regina scoffs. Like she does when she is wounded. “No. This is _mine_. I can’t seem to escape curses, no matter the realm.” 

Emma sucks in a breath and rubs at her neck. Still tender from where Ivy’s magic had ensnared her and tried to crush the air out of her. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Ivy..Drizella, she is my fault” Regina carefully wipes at the corner of her eyes. “All I saw was a girl who was being torn to pieces by her mother. Who had lost a sister. I believed if I taught her that there was another way, if I gave every tool I never had…” 

She takes Regina’s hand again, thinking she might not have a heart left because of how fast it drums. Beats because Regina laced their fingers together. Emma knows it could be a reflex of Roni’s. Or that Regina needs an anchor. It doesn’t really matter, she decides. 

“I was wrong about her. The more she learned, the more she wanted others to hurt. She wanted me to teach her to cast a dark curse. After I refused and so she vowed to find someone who would. The only thing she found is that her magic lacked the power to cast it.” 

Emma thinks she has made sense of the pieces. Of all the wrong ends. And still there are too many left. 

“She forced your hand.”

“Not powerful enough but too fucking clever,” Regina spits out. “I should have known better. We thought we were stopping her from casting the curse but we walked right into her trap. Drizella poisoned Henry’s heart and the only way to save his life…”

“I know.” She swallows back her tears. “I know.” 

“I wanted him safe, hidden away.” Everything breaks, her eyes. Her voice. “But I suppose I wanted you to find me too. Help me save him. My magic must have understood that and brought us here. Left a window for me to send a message” 

“Didn’t count on Lucy pulling a Henry?” Emma offers as gently as she can manage. 

“Truly her father’s daughter.” Regina’s laugh is low and quiet, love pouring out of her already. 

Emma wants to say that she has always been in awe of it. The endlessness of her love. Has always stood at the edge of it like she would a cliff. And wondered, wondered what it would be like to be loved by her. To dive off that cliff.

“It’s going to be OK.” Emma makes a promise instead of a confession. “We just need to figure out our next move.”

She nods and Emma catches the determination forming in a crease between her eyes. The one Emma knows so well on her face. Safe. It makes her feel safe. 

“First thing we need to do is have a talk with our granddaughter.” 

  
  


* * *

Emma is set on keeping the hot chocolate warm between her hands. The coffee house is packed full of people and when Lucy comes they will just drift into the bookstore. If there is a tail on Lucy then she is bound to lose them here. Ivy underestimates Lucy, that much is obvious. But they can’t afford to slip on something like this. Not when it’s this big. 

“Are you sure she got your message?” Regina asks, leaning over the table.

“Loud and clear.” Emma slides her phone over to her, revealing twenty exclamation points followed by clapping hands and five flames. “She is skipping ballet for this. Nothing out of the ordinary.” 

“We really shouldn’t be encouraging this type of behavior.” Regina mumbles as she takes a sip of her coffee. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t spoil the kid rotten.” 

“Not beyond reason.” She straightens her back and places her hands on her lap. Caught in a lie but refusing to back down.

“Right.” Emma tilts her head in amusement as she receives one of Regina’s half-hearted glares.

A small figure struggles to push the door open, backpack likely heavier than she is. Lucy. Quickly molding her expression into something that she believes helps her blend in. Emma can’t help but chuckle, the warm wave of affection washes over her. Her granddaughter, _their_ granddaughter. Lucy spots them and expertly avoids everyone in her path. 

“Roni, Clark!” Lucy chirps, ever careful as to not reveal her identity. “What a weird coincidence.” 

Emma hands her the paper cup she has been guarding without a second thought. She glances over at Regina who has a hand to her chest, her eyes already brittle. 

“Feel like picking up a book?” Her voice is rough with all that she is feeling. All that she always feels around Lucy. 

“As many as you like.” Regina tells her as she gets to her feet and places a tentative hand on Lucy’s shoulder.

Emma has to bite down her smile. _I told you so_. 

“Uh, yeah.” Lucy replies as confused as she could be. 

They shuffle into the bookstore, Lucy not bothering to pace herself with her chocolate. Emma breathes in relief seeing how easily they blend in here. Plenty of kids around, plenty of mothers. For a moment, just a moment she allows it to hurt. To imagine herself to be the Emma Swan Henry had wanted. One who had the courage she lacked. That Emma Swan who would have been part of a unit. Would have belonged out here.

Then Emma’s gaze falls on Lucy, there is Mills written all over her. It’s in her brow, the single-mindedness. Kid is dedicated to playing an ordinary girl going through rows and rows of books. She tries to wrap her head around Regina out in the real world, eyes keen on studying her granddaughter too. Hands in her pockets. Dressed in denim and leather. Looking like this is where she was meant to be all along. 

“I thought you said this was important.” Lucy tells her as she inspects a book. Still committed to her role. 

“She really is your granddaughter, Your Majesty.” Emma rolls her eyes, pretending they aren’t watering. “No nonsense.” 

“And she has your subtlety, Miss Swan.” 

Her brown eyes widen, grow lighter as she registers the words. Lucy drops her book and barrels into Regina’s waist.

“Is it true? Is it you?”

“Yes, tesoro.” Regina kneels down to her level and wraps her arms around her. “It’s me.” 

Emma thinks she might burst at the sight of them. Lucy melting so completely in Regina’s embrace. Eyes closed and Regina’s assurances that she loves her. That she’s missed her. It was nothing like that day at the pit. When Emma had stretched out her hand as she gave Lucy her name. Rushed through explanations. Frantic because there was no time. Promised she would break this curse if it was the last thing she did. Whispered reassurances in her ear. 

“Does this mean that you did it?” Lucy lifts her head from Regina’s shoulder to look at Emma. “Then why can’t I…”

“I didn’t. Not exactly.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. 

“Lucy, I need you to tell me just how much you remember.” Regina puts a finger under her chin just as she used to do with Henry. 

“It’s kind of fuzzy.” Her brow furrows in concentration. “Sometimes I get flashes of mom and dad. You. Tia Sabine. Sometimes it’s just songs and flowers... “

Emma sighs as she moves closer. Her chest already aches with the burden they’re about to put on Lucy’s shoulders. 

"But it doesn’t really matter. Not as long as I believe, isn’t that right abue?”

“Sara Lucia,,” Regina begins and Lucy’s whole face drops. “We’re going to tell you something…”

Lucy shakes her head, her jaw already clenching. 

“No. I don’t wanna hear it. It’s always something bad when you use my full name. _That_ I remember.” Her eyes narrow and her voice shakes. “I don’t wanna know.” 

“Kid, I know it sucks. And we shouldn’t be asking this of you,” It’s Emma’s turn to crouch down to her level. “But we need you to be strong.” 

Lucy breathes in and balls her hands into fists. Everything about her is so familiar, so known. With a stiff nod Lucy seems to agree to hear them out. Kneels down onto the floor and sits cross-legged against the shelf. They are meant to follow, Emma understands. Settle at her sides, with barely any space between them. 

“Your grandmother promised you she would help you break the curse,” Regina tells her gently. “But there was something she didn’t know. Something you don’t remember.” 

“What is it?” Lucy tears up and Regina tucks her under her chin. “Gran?” 

“Your dad,” Emma doesn’t know how to tell her this. But understands it must be with her when Regina is the one wiping tears away. “There is something wrong with his heart.” 

“He needs it back I know.” Lucy says so sure of it. “He just has to believe again.” 

“Lucy…”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, mi vida.” Regina murmurs. “It’s more like a sickness.” 

It’s there, the second where something tears inside Lucy. Tears inside all of them. 

“Was it her? Victoria?” It takes all her Emma’s strength to keep it together. 

“No.” Emma’s eyes meet Regina’s. _No lies_ , they agree. “That’s the other thing you need to know. It’s Ivy who we need to be worried about. She poisoned your dad’s heart.” 

“And I...I..” Regina's voice is thick. Enough to keep her composure. “I cast the curse.” 

Lucy gasps as she pulls away from Regina. Emma sees that old shadow on her expression, she’s already bracing for impact. Ready to be called a villain. 

“You?”

“It was the only way to save his life.” Emma jumps in. “He’s safe as long as the curse isn’t broken.”

“So we can’t break it?” Her voice goes higher and higher as she panics. 

“Not until we heal him.” Relief is painted all over Regina’s features when Lucy accepts her touch again. 

“And can you? Can you heal him?”

That is the question Emma had been too afraid to ask. Regina presses her lips together, struggling between the truth and what should be the truth. 

“What happens if you can’t?” Lucy's eyes dart from Regina’s to hers. “I never get my dad back?”

“Mi amor…” Regina begins. 

Emma imagines a world where Henry is never theirs again. Where he is a stranger that became family, a stranger that thinks their memories are only stories. Ones he grew disappointed in and only haunt him. Her head pounds as she breathes. Henry has the heart of the truest believer and Emma thinks she owes it to her son to try. Try and believe that there is a way out of this impossible situation. 

“Hey, I haven’t seen anything your abue can’t do.” Emma stumbles over her words but still manages to return some of Lucy’s shine.

“And your gran is the strongest person I know.” Regina smiles and it makes her feel whole again. In a way she hadn’t felt in years. 

“But we still need you to be careful, kid.”

“Don’t take any unnecessary risks,” Regina runs a thumb along her chin. “Which means no more escapades. No more self-appointed missions.”

“But abue, I can help!” Her expression is set in trying to prove her grandmother wrong. “Ivy would never suspect me. I could…”

“Regina is right, kid. Ivy’s got her magic and she won’t think twice about hurting you.” Emma says, her voice getting heavier with each syllable. “The best you can do is to stay out of trouble.” 

“How does she...” She crosses her arms with a pout. “I _hate_ this.” 

“I know, tesoro. I know.” 

Emma watches Regina press her forehead against Lucy’s hair. Her lips avoiding a kiss that could break the curse. She never thought of her heart as something that could bleed until now. 

“So,” Lucy glances at Emma. “What I can do is stop mom and dad from sharing a true love’s kiss, yeah?” 

Neither of them know what to say, never having expected this moment. That shouldn’t be her job. But it’s the price of being too awake during a curse. Their granddaughter nods in understanding and wipes at her eyes. She is stronger than anyone has any right to demand. 

“Do I still get those books or…?” 

Emma barks out a laugh she feels down to her toes. Regina lets herself laugh hard enough that it spreads to Lucy. 

* * *

Beer is cold and bitter on her lips but it’s loosening up her neck. Her shoulders. The bar is close to empty and somehow that makes this more difficult. Emma thought things would get easier having Regina back. But it’s harder to keep her name off her lips when there is recognition behind her eyes. Especially when they keep finding Emma’s. When they are almost alone. 

Regina wipes the bar spotless as she inches closer to her. Lips pressed into a thin line and her hair held back by a bandanna. 

“You want to go through it again?” Emma asks, feeling the beer settle in her stomach. 

Henry is supposed to arrive any second. Regina had practically frozen outside the bookstore when she’d remembered. So had Emma. When she’d heard about the orchard, about Henry thinking Clark is a liar. Probably one who only played with Roni Perez. They had to come up with something to clear her name. Something that would explain Clark still hanging around Roni’s. That something is shaky at best. 

“Do you?” Regina replies with a quirk to her brow.

“No,” She takes a sip from her beer. “Not really.” 

“Emma,” Her name is like a secret and her heart leaps at the sound of it. “You have to know that he doesn’t mean any of the things he says…”

“Doesn’t he, though?” Deep down inside, Emma knew this day was coming. Knew it since she opened her door and found a ten year old Henry standing there. The day when her son found her wanting. “It’s probably easier to admit when it’s about a character and not your mother.” 

“You’re always on his mind,” Regina’s gaze is magnetic. Makes doubt seem impossible. “You never really left, you...” 

“Except I did.” Emma should be better than this. She’d decided to bury this the moment she crossed the town line. But this bar has a knack for unearthing it. 

“Because of the postcard I sent,” Regina leans in closer. Closer in a way that is becoming familiar. “It wasn’t exactly fair…”

“I’m not talking about that,” She can feel a tremor in her hands, in her mouth. The hard truth that Henry had laid out. “I’m talking about...about...how I was letting myself be taken away from...I wasn’t strong enough.” 

Emma rubs at the spot where her wedding ring used to be. She is grateful that he hadn’t been able to follow. That all it had taken was a simple piece of cardboard. Ended without ceremony and much thought. She can feel Regina’s knowing eyes on her. Emma’s stomach twists thinking of just how much they’ve seen. 

“You need to stop being so hard on yourself,” It sounds like a command with her voice so strong. Unshakable. “I mean it.” 

“Yeah, well…” 

The distinct sound of the door swinging open follows. Emma knows it’s Henry by the look on Regina’s face. The way her eyes soften, how her throat seems to be working itself into a knot. She has to stop herself from looking back. Just listen for his steps as he approaches the bar. 

“Hey,” It isn’t clear if it means to include her too. “So I might be the city’s worst delivery service.” 

He places a paper bag on the counter and pulls out a stool. 

“Henry,” Regina tries her best to keep herself steady. “I’m sure it’s good. Whatever it is.” 

“Pastrami always is. Guaranteed to make you feel better,” He smiles, in that way that is distinctively Henry. His ears seem to move with it. “Can I have a beer?”

“No.” Regina replies almost on instinct and Emma bites her lip to keep from smiling. 

“No?”

“I mean, not your usual.” She throws Emma a look that is barely dirty. “I’m out of those.” 

“OK.” Henry glances at Emma before shrugging. “I’ll have whatever you have on tap.” 

Regina nods and Emma panics realizing that the tap is at the opposite corner. At the thought of being left alone with Henry. Even for a minute. 

“Uhmm…” He begins and he could be ten. He could be thirty-five. “You guys good now?” 

Maybe she considers denying it. Acting as if it never happened. _No lies._ Emma can hear his voice, much younger. Making them both promise that he would only get the truth from them. 

“Yeah, we’re good.” She sighs looking at Regina for support. It’s a slight nod she gets as she returns with the lightest beer on tap. “It was just a misunderstanding.” 

“Are you sure about that?” There is something that wants to be unforgiving in his eyes. And Emma wonders if this is what Regina saw all those years ago. Suspicion. Wonders if it hurt this much. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Regina answers for her. She unpacks the contents of the bag and lays them out on the bar. 

Henry doesn’t look convinced, grimaces as he sips his beer. 

“Roni,” He hunches his shoulders, it’s the most he can do to keep Emma from listening. “You didn’t hear yourself today, the things you were saying. You worried me. So forgive me if I don’t exactly believe everything is just fine _._ That you are fine.” 

“You’re just going to have to take my word for it.” 

It’s off script but then again everything with Henry always is. She could laugh at the way things stay the same. 

“Roni, I think I need to come clean.” Emma tilts her head so that Regina knows to play along. “I’m sorta like a PI working a case.” 

Henry snorts. “OK. Sure. And I’m Stephen King.” 

The kid inherited her bullshit detector. But it’s not actually bullshit, Emma tells herself. Just a variation of the truth. A reasonable version of it. 

“It’s why she was helping me with Belfry.” Regina takes a bite from the biggest sandwich she has ever seen. Wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand. Roni’s reflexes come to her rescue. “She thought it’d be useful.” 

“And you lied because…?”

“Had to cover my ass.” Emma lets her shoulders sag. “I’m not proud of it.” 

“Aha,” He takes a bite out of his own sandwich. His cheeks are full of pastrami and pickle. “If you’re a PI, who hired you?” 

“Uh, sorry that’s confidential.” 

“That’s real convenient.” 

“Henry,” His full name is on the tip of Regina’s tongue, she can tell. It’s that tone that left him with no room to argue. “Clark is telling the truth. I was upset she lied to me, yes. But I believe her and I _trust_ her.” 

“Roni, come on…”

Regina raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms. 

He sighs and turns so he can face Emma. Breathing gets harder and she wishes she could apologize. For everything. For not being the Emma Swan he believed her to be. For growing smaller. For letting him go. Henry’s brow relaxes and he shakes his head. 

“You hungry?” He slides over half of his sandwich. It makes Regina roll her eyes, her poorest attempt to hide her affection. 

Emma laughs and accepts his peace offering. The air around them turns lighter, even if Henry isn't quite sure about her yet. Regina knows when to intervene, what to say. In a way Emma never really mastered. It’s how the evening goes, with half jokes and vague ideas she’ll forget in the morning. It becomes night when Henry comes up with an excuse to see Jacinda. Red in the ears after he clears his throat. True love, Emma can see it. Even if he can’t. 

The few patrons stumble out of the bar not too long after that. After Regina had smacked her hand away from the peanut bowl, wrinkling her nose. But night. Night means this long day is over. Her knees ache with it, with the fucking day she’s had. Henry’s words were like paper cuts. Sting when she has almost forgotten about them. It’s why Emma grips the mop as tightly as she can. Keeps her mind busy and helps Regina close up the bar. Keep up the pretense that they’re Roni and Clark, nothing but a friendly stranger and the local bartender. 

The floor looks black underneath the soapy water and Emma realizes she has backed herself into a corner. It gives her no choice but to gaze at Regina as she waits for the floor to dry. Cat-eyed glasses at the tip of her nose going over her numbers. Wouldn’t have been caught dead in them in Storybrooke.

“I can feel you staring.” Regina tells her without looking up. 

Emma feels a grin growing, running up to her cheeks. In spite of the aches and pains that come with living in a cursed neighborhood. Because she knows how deep it goes now. Her love for Regina. She had gone at it with closed eyes before. Striking whatever threatened her happiness. But here away from titles, rings and happy endings. Emma had decided to open her eyes. Never wants to close them again. 

“Just glad you’re back.” She tiptoes over to the bar and settles against it. “Double identities are no joke.” 

Regina huffs and pours them a drink

“Certainly picked the right name for it, Miss Kent.” 

“You caught me off guard,” Emma shrugs taking a sip from the gin “It was the best I could do.” 

“Well, you handled yourself with more grace than anyone else could have mustered.” Her eyes seem to want something from her. 

“Grace? I think you have me confused with someone else…” She makes a show of looking around the bar because she can feel it. The conversation they’re about to have. 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Yeah, got thirteen stitches as hard evidence.” 

It was the wrong thing to say. It’s clear by the gasp that Regina tries to stifle. By the way her cheeks have gone darker. Emma feels heat building in her neck. Her chest growing tighter, like it’s running out of room. 

“Emma, what happened between us…”

Tequila isn’t going to cut it. Not after today. Because Emma just got Regina back and she cannot lose her again. Not because of a failed true love’s kiss. 

“Uh, uh it’s fine,” She scratches the back of her neck. “I mean, you were cursed. We can forget about it.” 

It’s unreadable, the look on her face. Regina only blinks at her with barely parted lips. 

“Right,” She drinks from her tequila and avoids her eyes. “I was cursed.”

Silence settles like dust between them. It’s so much harder to do away with it now that Emma can’t hide behind a phone. Behind a name. She thinks of apologizing for that kiss. The one that tasted like mint. For assuming. But the words won’t come out. Because she doesn’t regret finally opening her eyes. Will not apologize for it. 

“We should finish closing up.” Regina says, folding her glasses in her hand. 

“You go ahead,” Emma moves to put away the mop. “I’ll catch up.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be patient with their dumbasses :)


	3. A Trip to the Woods

Emma had forgotten the sounds of a city. Cars driving over puddles. Honks and curses. Drilling that follows her everywhere. But her body remembers, has settled into them again. Even if the cold is wetter in Seattle. She zips her jacket closer to her chest and buries her nose into the scratchiness of her scarf. It’s early, maybe too early. But a beating inside her chest had refused to let her stay in bed. Had gotten her into her boots and jacket, ready to find something to do. 

In a cursed neighborhood during daylight savings time it doesn’t mean very much. Not beyond watching the clock like precision with which shop-owners push their iron curtains open. Emma thinks she should have seen them sooner, all the signs that this was Regina’s magic. The flowers out on the street, with their whites and reds. The straight lines on the buildings. But then again so many of the details are different. The way the rain falls, the scent of it on the pavement. Reminders that Emma doesn’t know everything. That she missed the making of these details. 

She sighs and is relieved when she checks the time on her phone. Ten past seven. Sabine and Jacinda’s truck just opened. Hot coffee and cloud-soft beignets, more than small mercies. Emma rubs her hands together and picks up her pace. A block away she realizes the line is longer than she expected and braces herself for the cold wind that’ll hit as she waits. 

“Val, order for Val!” Jacinda’s voice reaches the back of the line.

“Me, that’s me!” An older woman rushes to the front of the truck. “Gracias, bella.” 

Emma can barely make her out, but she can see her good mood even this far. She hadn’t known her before, what the curse did to her. But it’s what Lucy holds onto, that after she had brought Henry to Hyperion Heights her mother seems to smile more. Emma generally prefers not to think of the days when Mary Margaret began sneaking around with David but she can’t help it now. When she sees that same spark in Jacinda’s eye. It makes her look away for what they’ll have to do to keep Henry safe. 

“Funny catching you here,” An amused voice says behind her. “I thought for sure you had skipped town.” 

Jamilah. Emma feels the hair on the back of her neck stand in anticipation. She bites at her lips and makes room for her at her side.

“No, uh,” She is always unsure when it comes to Jamilah. “Still here.” 

“And Roni knows?” Jamilah cocks her head to the side and crosses her arms. 

“Yeah,” Emma swallows to keep her voice steady. “She knows.” 

Jamilah nods as she inspects her from head to toe. She doesn’t know how to feel, how to even word what builds inside her. It’s this sense of danger, this instinct to flee. To run because she is another version of him. Of Hook. 

“I make you nervous.” She says it so easily. 

Emma should deny it but she can’t. 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“I know it isn’t.” Jamilah says without hesitation. “Now, what’s your problem with me? I don’t want to make any assumptions based on the way you look.” 

Sometimes she forgets. Forgets about the color of her skin, her blonde hair. Emma forgets it was her get out of jail-card until it wasn’t. Until it couldn’t be anymore. That it’s why they never looked at her twice on store mirrors or backed away from her in fear. Forgetting can make her into a real asshole. 

“I’m sorry I made it look that way.” She sticks her hands into her pockets and looks Jamilah in the eye. “You...you just remind me of someone I’d rather not think about.” 

“Alright. Is that why your claws come out when I’m around Roni?” Her eyebrow is raised and she is back to being amused. “Or is there another reason?”

“No,” The truth makes heat gather at the top of her ears. “That’s it. You got it.” 

“Anyone ever tell you your poker face is lousy, Clark?”

Jamilah snickers and throws her head back. Emma feels her shoulders relax with the sound of her laugh. So unlike him. She had been so afraid Jamilah would see the same things he did, that at the slightest similarity her blood would run cold. The air would leave her chest and her knees would give in. 

“There’s a first time for everything, right?” Emma exhales as they near the front of the truck.

“Mila!” Sabine says from somewhere inside it. 

A grin spreads across the woman’s face. That’s a detail, Emma thinks. A detail of Regina’s magic that she missed, how easily it bends around the faintest hints of happiness. Nothing like Storybrooke all those years ago. 

“I’m right here, Sabine. No need to yell.” 

“That is _exactly_ my problem.” She peeks her head out the window, almost on Jacinda’s shoulder. 

“I know better than to get caught in the line of fire.” Jacinda tells Emma as she moves aside. 

“Is something going on between them?” Emma asks as she leans against the heat of the truck.

“They’re too stubborn to see it.” She takes out a pad. “Might as well prep your order while they’re doing ...whatever it is they’re doing.” 

“Four beignets. One black coffee and another that is more milk than coffee.”

Emma pretends to miss the look Jacinda gives her as she focuses on Sabine and Jamilah. 

“You can be so hurtful sometimes.” Jamilah rocks herself on the heels of her feet. “Can I have two beignets and a black coffee to make up for this mistreatment?” 

“No, not with that heart of yours.” Sabine puts her hands on the counter. 

“Not even if I came to warn you about Belfry’s pig in the corner?” Jamilah tilts her head and Emma catches sight of him. A uniformed officer looking out of place by a stop sign. 

Sabine rolls her eyes. “ _One_ beignet and decaf.” 

“My heart is already pumped full of poison, one black coffee isn’t gonna kill me!”

Emma accepts her order from Jacinda without much thought. And lets those few words ripple inside her. Push her to return and get to work. 

* * *

The door feels like it might cave under her knee. Everything about this building feels like it’s about to break. Emma bumps the door again to make her presence known but not to call unwanted attention to herself. She sighs and decides to hold the paper bag with her teeth and try her luck knocking on the door. It opens just as her fist is in position. 

“Emma,” Regina knits her eyebrows together. “What on Earth?”

It is nothing like mornings in Storybrooke. No foyer, no great windows that bring in sunlight. Regina looks so unlike she did back then. Back when Emma stopped by to pick up Henry’s math book early on Monday. Her face is just as fresh but her hair takes up space. Her feet are socked because the cold doesn’t allow anything else. Jeans where they should have been trousers or a skirt. Worn out cotton instead of silk. But the dark in her eyes. It’s just the same. 

“Breakfast.” Emma finally replies through the paper and realizes how stupid she must look. 

Regina takes the coffee off her hands and motions her to come in. Her stomach quickly responds to the smell of eggs and beans on the stove. 

“Looks like we had the same idea.” She tells her as she pulls the beignets out of the bag. 

“Glad to see some things never change.” There is a quirk to her lips as Regina eyes the sugar coating Emma’s hands. 

“Yeah.” Her fingers drum on the counter, hard enough that they lose the white of sugar. 

It’s the first time she has set foot inside Regina’s apartment in Hyperion Heights. She wants to take it in. Memorize it. The mismatched mugs on open shelves. The exposed brick on the wall. The multi-colored woven blanket thrown on the couch. Boxes clearly labelled _vinyl_ and _tapes._ It does something to Emma. It ignites a want and a need to learn more about who Regina’s magic made her into. Who she was away from her. 

“Did you clean in here?” She grabs her coffee because she needs something to do. 

“What makes you say that?” Regina doesn’t look at her as she turns the burners off and reaches for some plates. 

“I don’t know, Roni didn’t really strike me as being...”

“Regina Mills?” She wavers in her words. Emma can see the wince she is trying to hide. 

“Organized.” Emma tilts her head and moves to help her set the table. “I figured you’d do some sprucing up. And you obviously did.” 

“How can you tell?” Regina’s eyes find hers.

“The books stacked in alphabetical order over there.” She smirks for good measure as she gestures to the wall behind her. 

“Can you grab the tortillas from the microwave, private eye?” It’s a good sign when Regina pretends she can barely stand her.

“Sure thing, boss.”

It only takes only a second for Emma to turn around and for Regina to find her coffee. The look on her face, she will never grow sick of it. The way she closes her eyes, how they light up after that first sip. That surprise still there. Surprised that Emma would know. Would remember that she has a secret sweet tooth. 

“Coffee good?”

“Yes, thank you.” It’s shy, even now. “Though I expect nothing less from Tiana.” 

“Tiana?” Emma asks with a half-eaten tortilla in her mouth. “The other realm Princess and the Frogged it?”

“Not quite. No one was ever turned into a frog,” Regina eyebrow quirks up. “I’m afraid the version told in this realm was more on the racist side.”

“Yeah, that tracks.” Emma takes another sip of her coffee. “So, what’s the real story?”

The way Regina looks at her, like she is considering not telling her. 

“What? We both know storybooks lie.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Besides, I kinda need to know if we’re going to crack this thing.” 

“It’s fairly uncomplicated, really.” Regina’s voice turns deeper and she hasn’t realized it. “Tiana is Queen. We fought a long war to get her kingdom back. Lucy was born almost at the end of it.” 

“No secret grandfathers and demon children that are actually great-grandfathers ready to swap bodies with our son we need to worry about?”

“No. Belfry, Rapunzel that is, is the only tricky piece of the set.” 

“So Rapunzel is Jacinda’s stepmother. And if Jacinda is Ella then that also makes her Lady Tremaine? Who hates Ella because her daughter dying is somehow her fault? That’s if Jamilah’s story is true across realms. But that doesn’t really matter because Ivy is behind all this.” Emma groans in frustration. “I thought you said this was simple.” 

Regina laughs and she can’t even mind that it’s at her expense. 

“Well, once upon a time...” She begins again with full irony.

Listening to her tell the story, Emma can see how Henry grew to love words. Everything is so clear, springing to life inside her head. A young wife and mother named Rapunzel, who exchanged her freedom so her family might grow prosperous. Trapped in a tower where no knight came to rescue her. Escaping because of her quick thinking only to find her husband had re-married. Lived that prosperous life without her. It’s not hard to imagine how resentment festers like that. It’s not difficult to see how Rapunzel sought to poison her husband’s new wife. How Regina might have recognized Cora in her. It’s the tragedy of Anastasia and Ella falling through the ice, that sets it all off. That Ella would be saved but not her daughter. 

“I sympathize with the impulse of wanting to keep her daughter alive. Preserving her body in stasis until a cure was found,” Regina says quietly. “But not...not at the expense of another child.” 

“Who?” Emma is afraid of the answer. 

“Tilly.” Regina’s voice is watery. “Alice, actually. Milah’s daughter, born at sea. Back then Milah ran small quests for whoever paid. Lady Tremaine baited her with the promise of her weight in gold and Milah couldn’t resist helping a suffering mother. She had no idea what Tremaine was truly after...” 

Emma has to shut her eyes, try to keep the images out of her mind. A spell trapping Tilly in a tower, living a half-life so that Anastasia might live one too. All it took was the purity of her heart.

“I don’t think Jamilah took that one sitting.” 

“No,” Regina swallows. “It’s how she came to be in Tiana’s service. Pledged herself to win her Kingdom back from the likes of people like Lady Tremaine. Milah searched for years for something that would free Alice from that prison.” 

“Did she find it?”

“A Dark One. With a snap of her fingers she freed Alice in return for Milah’s left hand.” 

Regina gazes at her, probably knowing what is going through Emma’s mind. It’s nothing like the story of revenge she heard from Hook. No grand duel, no crocodile. Just a desperate mother trying to save her daughter. 

“What happened then?” 

“Anastasia died as soon as Alice stepped outside her tower. Lady Tremaine poisoned Milah’s heart, so that she would die if she ever reunited with her daughter.” Regina clears her throat and straightens her back. “Drizella takes after her mother in that respect.” 

“Fuck,” Emma lies back against her chair when the realization strikes. “Jamilah, I ran into her at Sabine and Jacinda’s. She joked about her heart pumping poison...” 

“The curse translated it to a rare heart condition here, she’s fine as long…” 

“As long the curse doesn’t break, yeah.” 

“I wish I had more answers.” Regina’s fingers curl around her fork. “I hate being this powerless to help them.” 

Emma nods and arranges the pieces in an order that makes sense. It takes one look at Regina to think of magic.

“If I managed to wake you then that means there is some magic we can use, right?” 

“Magic in the little things.” Regina smiles weakly at that. “The magic for curses and poisons is different. I never got around to teaching you that.” 

“I might not have listened too well anyway.” Emma laughs so that Regina does too.

“Curses can be broken with true love or sheer willpower,” She squeezes Emma’s hand to soften the blow. “They attack the mind. Poisons attack the body. Magic like the one you used to bring me back can’t heal a heart.” 

Emma rubs at her temples, exhausted by all the traps and conditions wrapped around this curse.

“Slaying a fucking dragon feels like a walk in the park compared to this.” 

“Suddenly feeling nostalgic?”

“Just a little, Madam Mayor.”

Regina’s expression changes, taken aback. Pink on her cheeks. 

“No one’s called me that in years.” It comes in a breath. “Almost makes me feel like I’m on top of things again.” 

“You are. You taught Ivy,” Emma brushes her fingers against her knuckles. “There’s gotta be something she never learned from you. Besides basic human decency.” 

Regina breathes in and seems to consider their options.

“Poisons are only chemistry, they are not complex beyond tampering with formulas to make them personalized.” The pink is almost gone from her skin. 

“Could you tamper with a formula to make an antidote?” 

“If I had the right ingredients, the right intent, and enough magic, I may be able to.” Regina looks like she is putting the solution together already. “We just need to know where to look.” 

* * *

Wet earth. Mud. Emma can’t see the poetry in it, if there is any. It reminds her of Snow with a bow on her back in the Enchanted Forest. Reminds her of monsters in Storybrooke. Of getting her boots caught here and there. Running after Regina and dirt on her knees. Nothing has changed in that sense. Roots have almost tripped her over and that uncomfortable wetness that comes from mud is getting harder to ignore around her ankles. Emma could always count on Regina to be grouchier than she was. Could joke that next time she will make sure to find Her Majesty a carriage.

But not today. Regina has her jeans tucked inside her boots. A raincoat securely zipped up to her chest. And she looks more at ease out in the woods than Emma has ever seen her. It makes her nervous. To think of all that has changed when Emma wasn’t there. She readjusts the backpack with supplies she volunteered to carry and steadies herself.

“Tell me Poison Ivy isn’t on our list.” Things would be easier if they could just take whatever she’d hidden in her kill room at the docks without Ivy knowing. Things never are that simple. 

“I wouldn’t think her narcissism stretched that far,” Regina’s breath freezes around her words. “I need to get a sense of where we’re standing.” 

Nothing is clear about magic here. In the real world, where they all belong in shelves. Behind screens but never on the ground. Out in the open like they are now. They’re working on hunches and impulse. Hope that driving three hours to find this place tells them something. That the stems and vines they pick distill the same kind of ingredients Ivy could have used. Emma watches Regina’s fingers stretch, curl. Missing her magic, trying to call anything to her. Whispering in a language that passes for Spanish at times. Nothing she ever did in Maine. 

“Any theories as to how the evil stepsister is still at full power?” Emma asks, hiding her true curiosity. 

“My best guess is she made some sort of token.” She lifts her nose to take in the cold of the wind. “I don’t think she knows enough about this world to harness its magic.” 

“Uuh, let’s pretend I need a refresher on Magic 101.” It has been a while since she had felt this inadequate around Regina. “Just for kicks.” 

“Gold enchanted an object to keep his memories intact when he dragged you to find Baelfire, did he not?”

“Yeah, a scarf he could never take off without frying his brain.” Emma blows air through her nose. “You should’ve seen him trying to go through TSA.” 

“Drizella might have done the same. Poured her magic into an object for safe-keeping,” Regina stretches her fingers again before curling them into a fist. “Something she has on her at all times.” 

Emma considers this new problem. Tries to place it on a list of high priorities. Squish it between healing Henry and breaking the curse. It feels like something will inevitably slip past them. There is nothing about this she doesn’t hate. 

“Ivy has got to be the biggest pain in the ass across the realms.” 

“You have no idea.” There is no double meaning to Regina’s words. Still Emma’s gut twists with it. With words that don’t mean anything. 

Cold hardens the skin on her neck as she watches Regina move through the trees. Takes in the small droplets of rain stuck in her curls. Stepping around roots and weeds with purpose. She can’t do the same, not feel the air for magic. Emma needs to make herself useful, it’s an old feeling. Achingly familiar. It’d begun as girl, standing around a kitchen eagerly grating potatoes in a foster home. It had tugged at her when Regina had her over for Friday dinners. Being useful meant being more than a guest, more than an observer. It meant she got to stay. 

Emma pulls out her phone and goes through her saved images. Yellow plant with a funny name and definitely poisonous, she thinks she can find that. Fear at the pit of her stomach tells her that this won’t be the thing that saves her son. But still she walks trying to spot yellow in the green. She has to try. 

“Ha, got you.” She whispers triumphantly, finding it between two rotting logs. 

Emma sticks her hands into the cheap gloves they’d bought before coming here. Dark pink and roses drawn on the fingers. The earth always feels strange under her hands, in between her fingers. She digs, careful not to rip any part of it. They need the whole thing just in case it did the trick.

“Pretty sure it’s a federal offense to steal from a national park,” Emma mumbles as she struggles to keep it standing inside a paper bag. 

“We’ll just add it to my tab.” Regina replies, closer than Emma thought she was. 

It’s an embarrassing snort that decides to answer as she stands. A red and purple looking plant hangs from Regina’s gloved hand. Looking like it could never cause any damage. 

“Did these grow back in the other realm?” 

“Concordia.” Regina corrects her. It’s gentle, like a touch to her elbow. “They did, it’s why I picked them.” 

Emma nods and scratches at her cheek with the back of her hand. Because all that she wants to know, needs to ask, can’t be contained. 

“What was it like? Was it anything like this?”

The faint smile on Regina’s lips is gone too soon. 

“No,” She takes a step or two closer to her. Had it been three months ago Emma knows she would have backed away. Guiltily, as she felt for her wedding band. “It’s swampland and saltwater. So humid all you do is sweat.” 

The look on her face isn’t wistful. Emma doesn’t know what to call it. Now that they’re standing with dirt on their hands, so far away from anything they ever dared to call home. 

“Do…” One breath to ready herself. “Do you miss it?”

“So many things happened there,” Regina sighs. ”It’s where Henry and Ella married. Where Lucy was born.” 

_Fuck_ , it’s what her thoughts are reduced to. Emma wants to hear it all. Or not hear anything at all. Afraid, she’s afraid that their lives had been complete without her. Happy without her. But Emma wants to learn all there is to her family. The gaps in their memories. Everything.

“Too bad this place is nothing like it then,” Nerves pull at the corners of her mouth. “Trip down memory lane might do the kid some good. You know, once we get over this whole poison thing.” 

It’s then that Regina’s eyes turn on her. Unfaltering, unwavering. They always made her feel transparent. Truly seen. Across rooms. Through swirling darkness. Up at an altar. 

“It’s not a place or an object that helps the magic remember,” It’s low and understanding. “It’s what they mean at your very core. Even if these woods looked anything like Concordia, they aren’t what defines Henry.” 

“What...what is?” She has to swallow back the knot in her throat. Because the question had to be asked at all. A stranger to her son is what she has become. 

“His family.” Regina says with so much certainty. 

“Good thing Lucy and Jacinda have that covered.” Emma feels her head grow lighter, her breath caging itself in her chest. “Would think swinging by Roni’s might help things along too...” 

“ _Emma.”_ It’s that voice again. The one she saves for when she’s being stubborn. 

Regina’s naked hand reaches for her cheek, stroking at the dirt she’d left there. Emma can’t be sure she isn’t up in the air. Floating away with dust and water. She should think of something to say, something that would make this moment less. Just less. But she can’t speak, not when she’s under Regina’s gaze like that. 

“It includes you too.”

“What does?” Her own voice fractures into a whisper as she leans into Regina’s touch. 

“His family,” Regina trails careful fingers on her jaw. “And if we are going to save him and break this curse I need you to believe it.” 

Emma presses her lips together and manages a stiff nod. Blinks to keep herself together. Her whole life. That’s how long Emma has waited to hear words like those. So she bites her lip to keep from kissing Regina. Out here, away from Hyperion Heights. Where there is no curse. Where it doesn’t matter if the kiss is true or not. And the air smells of rain, water stays frozen on their hair. 

“OK.” She chokes out. “I can do that.” 

* * *

Emma stretches her toes. Cracks her ankles. Not as spry as she used to be, her clutch leg is a little sore. Not that she would tell Regina that. Her shirt still smells of forest. Of green. Not a bad thing, she is quick to tell herself. The plants they had taken from the forest sit in her sink, red and yellow against the whites and browns of this place. Driving back Emma had been sure they would have been brewing and distilling by now, coming up with the right spells. It’s complicated, Regina had explained. Her touch gentle on her wrist. This world is different, muddled. It’s what she’d said. Emma had nodded and pretended to understand more than she did. 

It feels small up here. Too quiet. Away from everything and everyone. She thinks of slipping into her jacket, grabbing her keys and heading down to the bar. Have a beer as Regina answers to Roni and humors the neighborhood’s old men. But they had agreed it might be good if Clark weren’t seen so often, good to let Ivy get confident. She grunts and opts for a soda and a packet of oatmeal cookies Regina had insisted she packed for their trek in the woods today. 

Truth is, Emma has no clue what to do with herself. Nights had meant gathering the courage to call Regina in Storybrooke. Pick her truths, her questions. Close her eyes and _wish_ she could fix things. _I’ve missed you for so long. I’m sorry. Wish you were here. All of you._ She had them memorized, the things she wanted to say. They had burned in the back of her throat. One still does, burns when Regina catches her looking. When it feels like she might have reached that cliff with open eyes. 

Her arm instinctively reaches for a cushion to hold against her body. Like when she reached for Regina. The fabric had been rough against her cheek that first night she’d spent here. Regina had been drunk on the other end and Emma had barely contained herself. Her grasp so tight that stuffing was bursting at the seams. Because there had been Roni downstairs, solid. Flesh and blood. And Regina, a voice coming in through the airwaves from Storybrooke. There is only Regina now. Voice and flesh. The cushion is still rough against her cheek. 

“Shit.” Emma mutters before stuffing a cookie into her mouth. Who knew one-sided True Love would force her into introspection. “At least there’s chocolate in these instead of raisins. Silver lining.” 

That’s something her mother would look for. Chocolate and silver linings. She almost laughs as she slurps her soda. Emma had always struggled with the idea. Never could tell Snow that her whole life had felt like one. Sacrifice surrounded by the town’s salvation. Her marriage lined with the silver of her parents’ happiness. 

A knock on her door snaps her out of her thoughts. Good thing too, a minute longer and she would have started to pace. Emma shuffles to the door, not knowing what to expect but preparing herself for it. 

“Hi.” Henry greets her. 

She might be in worn-out socks or in high heels. Sweatpants or a tight pink dress. Twenty-eight or thirty-five. Emma wasn’t ready for it. 

“Uh, hi.” She returns, trying not to blink. 

“Roni said you were up here.” He lifts Regina’s keys as proof. Her son looks tired but fighting it. Emma recognizes the signs from whenever he swore he could make it past eleven for that movie. “Can I come in?” 

“Sure, yeah.” Emma does her best to keep it together. _You’re so tall, Mills. How’s the weather up there?_ She could say so easily, try and ruffle his hair. “Uh, what can I do for you?”

Henry looks at this place like he did at her apartment in Boston. Inspecting every boring detail, trying to figure out what to make of her. If this is the person he was looking for. He picks up on the plants out of place in her sink but says nothing about them. 

“I know we, um, had our differences yesterday.” Henry doesn’t bounce in place. He isn’t ten years old. 

“Heart was in the right place.” She excuses him because she always will. 

“Ha, yeah.” Henry runs a hand through his hair. “Nice way to say I was being a jerk.”

“I wasn’t…”

“I know.” That same earnestness. Kindness, no curse could erase it. “Um, I’ve been thinking about it. About what you do…”

“Private investigation.” 

“Sure, yeah,” The skepticism hasn’t completely vanished from his voice. “How do you feel about maybe partnering up?

“With...with you? Together?” More and more Emma is finding she makes an idiot out of herself. 

“On the days Roni can spare you.” He says with a knowing look that makes Emma’s pulse race. 

“What’s the job, kid?” 

Henry shakes his head like Emma isn’t in on the joke and gestures towards the kitchen table. 

There is this thing she had always done with him at the table. Imagined what a life with him and Regina would have been like. Emma thinks what it could be like now, across the hall. 

“I have a plan,” He says, fingers locked over the table. “More of an idea, really. To help save this neighborhood.” 

Emma considers him, bites at the inside of her cheek to restrain herself. To keep from smiling. Still her son, still the boy who wanted her to bring back happy endings. 

“I..I don’t know what to tell you. Roni and I tried to find something on Belfry. It’s been one dead end after another.” A half truth that makes her stomach turn.

“I’m not talking about going after Belfry directly. I’m talking about police, city inspectors…” 

“Henry…” Emma wants to say something, not quite sure what. Because this is a Henry who only remembers this world, where his mothers don’t make the rules. Where he can’t write villains away. Things aren’t so simple. He should know that.

“Look, most people in this neighborhood can’t afford to go up against them. Not without having a target on their back,” He says with such purpose. “Do you know how many surprise inspections and tickets Sabine and Jacinda have had? Roni practically has a cop waiting for her to slip up.” 

Emma sucks in a breath. Thinks of that cop ready to pounce this morning. Her son, _their_ son wants to try and throw a rock in the monster’s eye.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Find dirt on them, expose them.” He sighs. “Hope that’ll make a dent?”

She can’t say no to Henry. Even if her gut objects to the idea. Because her son is here, asking for _her_ help. And Emma promised out there in the woods that she would believe she belonged in Henry’s life. Promised Regina. 

“Alright. Let’s do it.” 

“Shake on it?” Henry extends his hand with a smile on his face.

Emma takes his hand and thinks of a silver lining again. It’s Henry’s strong grip, Regina’s touch. Lucy’s arms around her waist. Thick silver. Glints with the spark behind Jacinda’s eyes. 

  
Strong silver. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woud love to know what you think!


	4. The Market and the Chicken Shack

“I got it here somewhere.” Tilly’s voice is muffled by the cardboard and foam lining the walls. 

“It’s fine!” Emma says as she lifts something that looks like an old map. 

“You say that but then you’ll be  _ wishing _ you had it.” 

Something shatters at the back and Tilly curses under her breath. Emma figures it’s best to let her be. There had been so much she hadn’t bothered to ask her. Ask about her. Looking at this place she realizes that. It’s a repurposed container. Had it been built in the outskirts of the city by two people who looked more like her than Tilly people would call it revolutionary. Plastic crates make for shelves and they hold so many things. Yellowed books. Half broken tea cups. Snow globes. Emma picks one up.  _ Storybrooke, Maine.  _ It reads on a golden label at the bottom.

“Do you like that one?” Tilly asks, standing behind her. 

“It’s nice.” She puts it down, feeling a little uneasy. Details, details in Regina’s magic. 

“It’s from a place I can’t find on a map!” She informs her. The orange she is wearing today makes her look younger. “What kind of place has a snow globe but isn’t on any map?” 

“One that doesn’t want to be found.” Emma sits on a wooden box that has been converted into a chair. 

“Or only found by the right people.” Tilly smiles and Jamilah comes through. It’s easy to see her, see the dimples on her cheeks. “I’m glad you aren’t in such a rotten mood anymore.” 

She opens her mouth only to close it. There isn’t much she can say to that. Not much that wouldn’t be a lie. 

“Found her, didn’t you? The person you wanted.” 

Emma nods, her throat raspy with everything she is keeping in. She clears her throat and tries on a smile.

“That’s not why I’m here though.” 

“And I know you didn’t actually come for this rabbit’s foot.” Tilly holds it up, pink and clearly fake. Emma doesn’t need to worry about Thumper running around in search of revenge. 

She manages a laugh and locks her fingers together. 

“Remember when I asked you to be my eyes?” Emma asks as she feels a tug of fondness for her. Tilly is not much older than she was when she’d had Henry. 

“Of course I do. Helped you along, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, more than I can say.” Something is special about Tilly. Something that the curse didn’t manage to take. Same as Lucy. A shine. Regina would explain it, Emma is just relieved to see it. “But I came to tell you that it has to stop.”

“What? Why?” Her brow is furrowed. She recognizes that look. Upset that she is going to be discarded. Thrown out after she was useful.

“I’m going to be doing something dangerous and it’s better if you aren’t involved. Or look like it anyway..”

“I only ever stand on street corners and text you, Clark.” That name always sounds fake when Tilly says it. More than it is. “Doesn’t exactly scream danger.” 

“I know, I know. Just take my word for it, OK?” 

“This is about Ivy Belfry.” She says while picking at her nails. “And that smell about her.”

“Smell?” Emma blinks at her, perplexed by the thought,

“Haven’t you felt it? It was all over that flash drive.” Tilly scrunches up her nose. “Like metal being chafed away.” 

Magic. Ivy’s magic. Wrapping itself around her neck. Stretching out her body. 

“Think I might have caught a whiff of it.” 

“So that’s it, isn’t it? And whatever and whoever it is you found.” 

“Maybe it’s something else.” Emma figures that the less she knows about it, the better. It’s one thing to watch for the odd thing out in the neighborhood. It’s another to spy on the comings and goings of men with badges. 

“Fine. Keep your secrets.” Her face is turned away from her and her arms are crossed. 

Knowing what she needs, Emma nudges her on the ribs. “Don’t worry, I’ll carry peanut butter and banana sandwiches on the regular.” 

“I carry my own.” Tilly reminds her with a sigh. “You always forget.” 

Emma stands and takes another look at the place. “You staying here tonight?”

“It’s better to switch it up. Safer that way.”

“Guess you’re right.” It’s true, she remembers. Never let anyone know where you might be.

“Take it.” Tilly hands her the pink rabbit’s foot and smiles. “I was being serious. Never know when you’ll need it.” 

Everything about this place. It makes her feel different. Something Emma can’t pinpoint. Can’t call it a curse. So she returns Tilly’s smile. As wide as she can make it.

“Thank you.” 

* * *

She had never really stopped. Before, out in the world. In Storybrooke. Never stopped to smell the roses or do much of anything. But here dusk had come early and Emma had been lucky stepping out of her car. Right when what had been left of sunlight had turned the water pink. People murmur all around them in the crowded hall. It’s warm inside from steam and the sizzling oil inside the market. Regina has a cloth bag on her shoulder. Her expression relaxed, blending with the warmth of the place. It was a rare sight to catch in Storybrooke. Outside of Mifflin Street and warm Friday night dinners. 

Emma tries for it now, to smell the air for magic. For Regina’s magic. Not metal. But fire, bright and strong. She understands now what Regina had meant days ago. That this world is too muddled. Even if Emma could tap into the magic here, she wouldn’t know it. Wouldn’t be able to distinguish it from everything else. For now she is content in watching Regina smell ginger roots. Crack cinnamon bark in half. 

It feels like a wish. One made on the run, never stopping to make it happen. 

“Can I have a quarter pound of the quesillo over there?” Regina stands on the tips of her toes to speak to the man behind the counter.

“Cheese?” Emma asks. “That doesn’t sound like it’s for…you know.” Talking about heart-healing magical potions out in the world needs creativity. More than Emma has in stock. 

“It isn’t for our  _ brew _ ,” Her eyebrow is slightly raised. “It’s for tomorrow’s dinner.” 

“Oh. Dinner.”

“You didn’t think the chicken skin I picked up from the butcher was for brewing, did you?” Regina wants to laugh. Emma has had the quirks of her voice memorized for years. 

“I’m not a professional..uh.. bartender,” She counters. “I don’t know what would go into something like that.”

“Terrible student.” That’s when Regina smiles. When she’s shaking her head and paying for her cheese. 

“What kind of dinner has chicken skin as an ingredient anyway?” 

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” She motions for Emma to follow. It’s tempting. To try and take Regina’s hand. “You don’t know half the things that go into your favorite dishes.”

“Yeah, like what?” The smell of fish making its way is nothing but unpleasant. She doesn’t hide it. 

Regina glances at her and seemingly settles on fucking with her. 

“Anchovy paste in my marinara sauce.” 

The inside of Emma’s mouth tingles at the thought. She presses her lips together and narrows her eyes.

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?” Regina tilts her head, challenging her to read her. Knows she can always tell with her. 

“Oh my God. I  _ cannot _ believe you’ve been feeding me anchovies for years.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

Suddenly Regina takes her by the wrist, too close to her hand. Leads her to a large stall. One where the jumbo shrimp and octopus are on ice. Emma has to keep from staring into the eye of one red fish as Regina orders. She can only catch por favor and gracias. 

“Try this.” Regina orders holding a toothpick with a pink cube of  _ something _ attached to its end.

“What is it?” Emma gags and takes a step back.

“Just try it.” 

“What if I’m allergic?”

“You’re not allergic.” She rolls her eyes and steps closer to her.

“How do you know? Did you put it into a molten chocolate cake or something?” 

“Would you quit being a coward?” 

Emma takes a deep breath and bobs her head. Dumbstruck when it’s clear that she is meant to eat off Regina’s hands. That she is meant to open her mouth for her. Every inch of her explodes when Regina’s fingers touch her lips. Careful. Careful when pulling away the toothpick. Emma doesn’t care what it is that she has in her mouth. What it tastes like, what it’s doing to her senses. Emma only cares about Regina. About the dark in her eyes. 

“Good?” 

“Yeah,” Emma clears her throat. “Good.” 

Regina’s chest rises unsteadily, just like hers. And  _ maybe, maybe.  _ Everything that burst inside is spilling out of her. Emma wants so much. Because this still feels like a wish. The whole of her feels it. Wants to make it happen. 

“Regina…” 

“Ladies!” Sabine greets them as she walks up to them.

Her chef’s coat doesn’t have a crease on it. She has her hair in a tight bun, the purple eye-shadow and eye-liner untouched and pristine. It’s not hard to imagine her as Queen of Concordia. Keeping her grace during a long war. 

“Hey...” It’s raspy and almost embarrassing. 

“Hi.” The dark of Regina’s eyes recedes as she kisses Sabine’s cheek. “What brings you here so late?”

“Ugh. Chef Antoine suddenly decided he wants to make bourride instead of coq au vin for tonight’s special,” She rubs at her temples. “And I’m his errand girl.” 

“Remind me how he managed to be your boss.” 

“He’s French. And white to boot.” She shrugs and moves to inspect Regina’s bag. “Hmm, quesillo, chicken skin and loroco. Special night in huh, Clark?” 

“I...uh…” Emma feels blindsided. By the way Sabine smirks and Regina purses her lips. “I..don’t know.” 

“Jacinda mentioned something about the community center.” It’s an old trick of Regina’s. Of the Mayor of Storybrooke. Make her voice go a tad higher and drift into another topic. 

“Yes!” Her eyes light up. “You know how they’re threatening to close it down?”

“Belfry?” Emma volunteers. 

“In a way. I can just see her building a luxury gym and spa there.” Sabine takes a deep breath. “It’s the city that’s pushing it on some BS claim about the pipes. We’re running a campaign to keep it open.” 

“And a fundraiser for repairs?”

Emma can see it. Even in the heat of the market. With Regina in jeans ripped at the knee and Sabine in her chef’s coat. Two queens talking to each other.

“If we can get that far, yes.” She lays a hand on Emma’s elbow. “You’ll sign up for the campaign, won’t you?”

“Course.” Only a queen could have Emma agreeing without a second thought. 

“Good! I’ll tell Jay to expect you both.” Sabine glances at her watch and winces. “Gotta run before Antoine turns me into a frog and serves  _ me _ for dinner.” 

Regina kisses Sabine goodbye and throws Emma a look.  _ Don’t you dare laugh.  _ She doesn’t. 

“The curse is so different here.” Emma says once Sabine is out of earshot. 

“How do you mean?”

“Everything stood still in Storybrooke,” She thinks of Tilly’s snowglobe. “Nothing is like that here.”

“Curses change with time,” Regina says barely above the sounds of the market. “To be cursed in one time means something different in another. In Storybrooke people were frozen in a quiet town when they had been accustomed to the chaos of the Enchanted Forest.” 

“Everyone is stuck in an endless grind here, like the rest of the world.” She supposes Concordia had been something else. Something Emma can’t quite picture. “Think it’ll be any different when it breaks?” 

“I hope so.” Regina sighs. “Are you going out with Henry tonight?”

“Yeah. Going out for a drive around the neighborhood.” Emma lets her hand touch hers, barely. Just barely. “He is very excited that being an uber driver is the perfect cover.” 

“I still don’t know about this, Emma.” Her eyes shift to the side and then back to her. “Something about it doesn’t feel right.” 

“I know. But he’ll do it regardless, right?” She can hear her voice softening with each word. “At least this way I get to keep an eye on him.” 

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come?” Regina plays with the ends of Emma’s hair. Gently curling and uncurling a finger around them. 

“Uh, yeah.” Emma feels everything ready to explode again. Lit by the tip of Regina’s finger. 

“Henry says we should keep you out for your own protection. “Kid’s too noble for his own good.” 

“He gets that from you.” The gleam in Regina’s eyes. It makes words difficult. 

“Arguably.” 

“You’re impossible,” Regina says. Voice low and breathy. 

She’ll be on fire for the rest of the night. Emma knows that now.

* * *

“My girl’s name is senora, I tell you, friends, I adore her,” Henry sings tunelessly to music coming out of the speaker. “And when she dances oh brother, she’s a hurricane in all kinds of weather.” 

Emma snickers, pressing a hand to her mouth. 

“What?” Henry bobs his head.

His hair moves just like she remembers. Floppy when it’s growing out. 

“Nothing.” 

“I have excellent taste.” He raises an eyebrow in a way he doesn’t know he’s learned from Regina. 

“You could say that.” She has missed him so much. Has spent so many months missing him. At the table. Friday night. Even as they sat across from each other.  _ Kid. Henry. _

“So you’re just smooth and mysterious?” Henry isn’t ashamed that his shoulders move with the music. “Nothing remotely uncool about you?”

He is so obvious in what he is doing, Emma has to train her expression into something clueless.

“I still put marshmallows in my cocoa.” She offers knowing all the details he has written about Emma Swan. About cinnamon and bear claws. Coffee spills and snorts. 

“Wow. I cannot believe you shared such an intimate detail with me.” He is so much a Mills, down to the mockery. “Come on, it’s a stakeout. Gotta do something to pass the time.”

“It’s more like patrolling than a stakeout.” Emma wrings her hands and searches her memories. “What do you want to know?” 

“Hmmm,” He makes a left turn and scouts the sidewalk for any activity. “Favorite band?”

“Uuh,” Emma breathes in relief. This she can handle. Something he had never learned about her. “If I have to narrow it down to one? The Cranberries.” 

“Really?”

“Is that surprising?”

“I expected Zeppelin. Maybe The Dire Straits.” He eyes her thoughtfully. “There’s just a lot of...longing in their music?”

“Kind of comes with the territory of being gay.” Emma blurts out before she realized it’d been a thought at all. 

She looks at Henry in a panic, feeling heat building at the back of her neck. Her ears. Cheeks. Everywhere. Of all the things she thought she’d say to her son. All the things she was guarding. 

But he bursts out in laughter. And it’s genuine and so far from disdain. From anything that might have ever frightened her. 

“ _ That _ I had kind of figured out.” 

Emma laughs too and it comes from the belly. Because Henry, all grown-up-with-a-stubble Henry is driving with a permanent glint in his eye. So far from where they’d been a year ago. It gets easier after that. When they’re still laughing at each other and making games to pass the time. They don’t talk about anything important but Emma holds these seconds close to her chest. Learns that Henry has trouble sleeping sometimes. That there is a hole in his left sock. A lucky two dollar bill in his wallet. He takes his coffee like she does. 

“How did you get into writing?” She ends up asking after a while. Emma has to know what the curse has made him believe. 

“Eh, I think I always wrote.” He squints at something in the distance. “Notebooks came cheap in group homes and what foster kid doesn’t dream that his parents are secretly royalty?”

“That..that makes sense.” 

Even when taking some of Emma with him, he is still so different. She’d never dreamed about her mother. Not of Snow. Not when she’d been found at the side of the road. Emma had dreamed of a foster mother who’d decided to keep her. Who would have taken a look at her too-big clothes and dull hair and would have wanted her. Just as she was. Emma never had the imagination. The ambition to think of queens and saviors.

“What about you? How did you get into this type of thing?”

“Sort of fell into it.” It’s hard to make it sound casual. As casual as Henry’s fake memories of foster care. “Tried being a cop for a while, actually.” 

“Traitor.” 

It’s a joke, like every second thing they’ve said tonight. But Emma finds herself curling and uncurling her fingers anyway. Remembering there used to be a wedding band there. Henry must see it because he glances at her with an apprehensive smile.

“Good thing you’re back on our side now.” 

“Yeah.” She breathes out and focuses on someone moving ahead. “Hey, slow down a bit..”

“Did you see something?”

Emma only nods as she watches the figure move. Right around Tilly’s place. The door to her container hangs open. Carelessly. Like whoever it is prodding around isn’t afraid of being caught. Tilly had been right to stay away. Emma doesn’t want to think about the ifs of tonight. 

“What are the odds of cops doing dirty work out in the open?” Henry asks, probably picking up on the same things she is. 

“High.” 

A flashlight shines through the night shamelessly. It could be called stupid. It’s anything but. 

“Do you want me to go around the block?”

“No. Just park here,” Emma points to the spot across from the Chicken Shack. “I’ll get out, order something and keep watch. You stay here and pretend to wait for me.”

“I  _ am _ waiting for you.” He points out. “Get me a number 7.”

Emma at least tries to insert disbelief into the look she gives him.

“It’ll look less suspicious.” 

“Whatever you say, kid.” She laughs for good measure. 

The Chicken Shack cashier isn’t too pleased with her. Emma apologizes and happily accepts the fifteen minute wait time for her order. She settles against a wall with the receipt in her hand and pretends she isn’t watching for whoever is inside Tilly’s place. It takes a couple of minutes for him to come out. It’s the same uniformed officer from Sabine and Jacinda’s corner. Average in every way. Plain and brown-haired. The kind Emma ran from before she married one. 

Her phone pings.

_ Got him.  _

A message from Henry’s number, a camera emoji clarifies his meaning. 

Another ping. 

_ Still want my number 7 though.  _

Emma shakes her head, resists the temptation of looking back at the car. 

_ Do I look like the kind of person who’d walk away from a paid meal??? _

He sends her a shrugging emoji and a gif she recognizes from an old spy cartoon. Emma decides she’ll let him win this one. Like it’s Saturday and he’s on Regina’s team on whatever board game they’d pulled out. A sudden urge to talk about this, about him, overtakes her. Deep in her gut. It pulls and pulls until Emma is calling Regina. 

“Hello?” Regina picks up, with the faint music of Roni’s playing in the background. 

“Your son,” Emma bites down her smile. “Is a dork, Madame Mayor.” 

“This is information that couldn’t wait?” She can practically hear it, Regina’s would-be glare. 

“It’s urgent.” Emma feels for the rabbit’s foot in her pocket. “He does the white man’s overbite when the stereo’s on.”

“The white man’s…” Regina stifles a laugh. “Oh my God.” 

“It’s embarrassing.” 

“This is boorish behavior, Miss Swan.” It’s only ever half-serious. 

“Believe me, kid gives it back twice as bad.” She dares to sneak a glance at Henry. Busying himself with his phone. Blue glow lighting up his face. 

“Sounds like it’s going well.” Regina says, her voice clicking into something quieter. 

“I think so.” Emma closes her eyes. “Thank you.”

“I…” Maybe Regina will deny it. That Henry coming to her for help was her doing. “It’s what you would have done for me. Have done for me.” 

Some concrete comes loose under her boot and Emma kicks at it. Gulps down all she wants to say. 

“He’s your son too, Emma,” It’s a whisper, the kind she held onto during those nights they were apart. “Always remember that.” 

Emma wants nothing more than to feel Regina's hand on hers. Fingers carefully trailing a path on her palm. She doesn’t get to. Not quite. But Regina is voice and flesh. That fire lit in the warmth of the marketplace erupts and she knows. Knows she’s beaming into her phone. 

“We’ll talk more when I get back.” Emma hears the points where her voice splinters. 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

She hangs up and turns on her heel. Her phone pings. It’s two sets of emoji eyes. 

_ Was that Roni? _

_ None of your business kid _

_ I take it back. You’re not cool and mysterious. You’re a dork. _

When Emma gets around to throwing him a dark look it only makes her son laugh. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love food OK, sue me. 
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think!


	5. Fumes and Fuck Ups

The storm makes the tide stronger. Emma remembers that much from their journey to Neverland. It makes everything sway. Creak. It’s like that today. The wood expands beneath them and her knees have never been seaworthy. It’s like Emma crossed to the other side of the mirror the minute she arrived in this neighborhood. Similar in passing, its perfect opposite. Jamilah’s boathouse doesn’t have a name. It’s browns and oranges inside, smells nothing of moss and barnacles. No rum in the air. It isn’t as warm as it should be. Jamilah is propped up on the sofa with three pillows and two heavy blankets over her. A scarf covers her hair. Bright blue with yellow stars. It only emphasizes the sunken and pale look to her face. 

“When the doctor tells you to take it easy that is an order not a suggestion, Mila.” Regina says over her shoulder as she tidies up the kitchen.

“I did take it easy.” Jamilah smiles wryly at Emma behind Regina’s back. 

“Not on the coffee by the looks of it.” She replies, pulling out too many empty coffee bags. 

Emma looks between them. The familiarity, palpable even through the curse. The concern in Regina’s expression. And Emma is out of it, out of this space. She sets out to stock the fridge to keep her insecurities at bay. 

“Umm, should I throw this out?” Emma holds out a jar that reeks of vinegar. “It smells like I should.”

“I’m saving that for Belfry,” Jamilah says with a snort. “It’ll take six showers and tomato juice to get rid of the stench.” 

“Inspired.” Regina mutters, handing her a tupperware to place in the fridge. “Does Sabine know about you being on bed rest?”

“Depends. Have you told her?”

“No.”

“Then no. Sabine doesn’t know.” She coughs and Emma pours a glass of water for her. 

“Roni has these ideas about me and Sabine,” Jamilah lowers her voice as Emma approaches her. “Same kind I have about you and her.” 

“Uuuh..we’re just...” Emma scratches at the back of her neck. _We’re...we’re_

“Yeah. Sabine and I are _just_ too.” Jamilah laughs after she takes a gulp of water. 

Emma can see what this really is, an attempt to distract them from her illness. Hide that she can barely move, that her legs are too weak for it. Pretend there is nothing wrong with her heart. 

“What the hell are you telling her?” Regina asks with the sharpest of glares.

“Guess.” 

Whatever Regina has assumed it’s making her glower and amusing Jamilah to no end. This is not something they did in Storybrooke. Even after the curse, the townspeople kept to themselves and their problems. To whatever shadow or monster roaming the streets. Their problems had been Emma’s and Regina’s. The Sheriff’s and Mayor’s, The Queen and Savior’s. But there was never this. Care. 

“Hello.” Tilly says, popping in. Grin on her face under her raincoat.

“Tilly, get out of the rain.” Jamilah attempts to stand, Regina’s scowl does nothing to convince her. 

“Morning to you too, Mila.” She brings in the rain with her. Tilly is all green today. “I brought you something. On account of you being sick and all.” 

“What is it?”

Tilly rummages through her bag until she produces a ship in a bottle. Made with matchsticks. She moves to sit next to Jamilah, an expectant look on her face. 

“I was saving it for your birthday but I thought today was as good as any.” 

The way Jamilah softens, all bravado gone from her face. No curse could touch that. It had been the same with Regina when she’d only been Roni. Something in the back of her eyes would light up and spread to the rest of her whenever Henry was involved. This curse does more than keep their son away from them. Emma has to brace herself against a wall. She feels a touch on her elbow, feels it become gentle strokes. Regina is gazing at her. _I know,_ she seems to say. 

“Have you had breakfast?” Jamilah points her chin in the direction of the kitchen. 

Tilly happily jumps off the sofa and heads straight for the fridge and settles for an apple and a bagel.

“Hey, Clark. I’ve been meaning to ask,” She says, unlocking her phone. “Have you seen this?” 

For a moment, Emma is worried she will find herself on Tilly's screen. More than just the text she’d sent asking her to be extra cautious. Stay clear of her place. What she sees still makes her stomach turn. It’s a Twitter account. @PatrolGang. Three thousand followers in five days. A black square as an icon.

_Cop in plainclothes spotted in the corner of Pike and Pine. Be on the lookout. Same cop has a record of unlawful arrests. Paid off_.

Emma scrolls down to find photos and even videos. Henry. It has to be. She exchanges a worried look with Regina before giving it back to Tilly. 

“What are you looking at?” Jamilah asks. “That account everyone and their mother is talking about?”

“They don’t mean ill, if you ask me.” Tilly says. “Might even do some good.”

Emma does her best not to react. To stay where she stands, hold her tongue. 

“Road to hell is paved with good intentions.” Jamilah says, readjusting her pillows. “They might mean well but the cops will assume it’s any one of us. It’s painting a target on our backs.” 

Regina squeezes her shoulder, maybe she’s noticed how the hairs on the back of her neck are sticking up. _Shit._ They hadn’t thought this through. She hadn’t. Hadn’t seen beyond Henry. Beyond the curse and his heart. _Shit. Shit._

“Anyone home?” Jacinda says as she comes balancing an umbrella and tupperware.

“The storm does nothing to keep you people at home.” Jamilah complains through her smile.

“It’s Seattle, Mila,” Regina says making room for Jacinda. “Rain makes for a poor excuse.” 

“Exactly. Sabine would never let that fly.” She looks at her with badly hidden concern. “And yeah, she _knows._ You’re lucky Chef Antoine keeps her busy.”

“Good.” There is a kind of hidden gratitude that Emma picks up on her expression. “One more person in this damn boat and we’d sink.” 

Even as they laugh Emma feels Jamilah’s words cut a cold line down her back. Everyone cramped together in this boat, dripping from the rain, is in danger. They’ve put them in danger. Her nails dig into her palms.

Emma has to fix this.

* * *

_We need to talk. You free?_

There is not much left to bite on her nails. But Emma still tries it as she waits for her phone to buzz. That cold line down her back has only hardened, spread to the rest of her. And all she can do about it is wait. With her elbows on her kitchen counter as Regina prunes the leaves off their poisonous plants. She hums something that sounds vaguely familiar. A lullaby she has forgotten the words to. It’s gentle, like strands of silk. That wrap themselves around her, just tight enough for it to be safe. And it feels like this moment could feel like something. That they could be something, standing here. If it weren’t for curses, poisons, and conspiracies. 

“Hand me that mortar over there,” Regina says, nodding towards the kitchen table. 

Emma moves to give it to her when her phone pings. 

_Can’t. Gotta put in some extra hours driving._

_It’s midnight??_

_Late stage capitalism?_

_Meet tomorrow morning?_

_Tell me where_

“What did he say?” She asks, looking like she’d been holding her breath too.

“He’s working.” It isn’t relief, not exactly. “At least he’s not looking for trouble tonight.” 

“Sometimes I wish I could still ground him.” Regina sighs and tosses leaves and dirt into the mortar.

“Because that always worked when he was still waist level.” She buries her face in her hands. “Why did he think this was a good idea?” 

“It’s that Savior’s high.” 

“Savior’s what?” Emma can hear her voice hit the roof of her mouth.

It earns her a look over the rim of Regina’s glasses. 

“ _Regina.”_

“It’s that feeling all saviors and wanna-be saviors get,” she says, like this should be obvious to Emma. “When they’re so convinced that what they’re doing is right that they never consider the possibility that they might be wrong.”

“I…” Emma stops herself from arguing. 

Remembers what she’d felt was an embezzlement scheme that turned out to be a playground. Claiming Henry all to herself in front of an angry mob. Because she had been so sure. So sure about what she had seen in a dreamcatcher. Venturing down to Hades because it was right. It had to be. 

“Shit. I wish we had a tower right about now.” 

“Nothing can keep him when he’s made up his mind.” Regina adds salt to the mixture and begins to grind it. “I bought the tallest playpen I could find and he seemed to take it as a personal challenge.” 

He’d been barely one year old, Emma still holds onto Regina’s memories. Henry would smile up at her, like he knew what he was doing. Used his tiny arms to pull himself up and would giggle when he’d crash onto the floor. 

“I’ll talk to him, get him off that... high.” Emma says as she goes to stand next to Regina. “Want me to help with anything?”

“Start boiling water in a pot with three tablespoon of nutmeg. And find something to cover our faces.” Regina must see the confusion in her face. “To protect us from the fumes.” 

She finds a beaten old pot under the sink, the black has all been scratched out. Emma pulls two scarves from her duffle-bag and ties one around her face. 

“Do you need me to..?” Emma asks pointing to her scarf and then Regina’s gloves.

“Please.” She replies and bows her head for Emma.

It makes her breath shake and she’s glad. Glad that there is a thin layer of fabric between her and Regina’s skin. Emma’s hands have never been the most delicate but they are naturally careful when it comes to Regina. It’s almost a reflex, to stroke Regina’s neck before she pulls away.

Then Regina turns to look at her. Cat-eyed glasses, red scarf on her face and yellow gloves on her hands. Emma can’t help but laugh.

“What?”

“You look like a bootleg mad scientist.” 

“And you look like you just robbed a Sears.” Her tongue clicks. 

“OK, that is weirdly specific.” Emma replies watching the water become less still. 

“That’s the trick to landing an insult.” Regina makes sure to nudge her in the ribs as she moves towards the burner. “It has to be tailored to the object of your mockery.” 

“The Mills Method, huh.”

“The first lesson is free.” She lightly shakes the mortar to unlodge any remains from the side. 

Water begins to bubble just as Emma laughs. Changes color into a deep red when the ingredients fall into it. They swirl together. Nutmeg, leaves, salt, and dirt until they are a deep brown.

“Don’t stand so close to it,” Regina says with a touch to her shoulder. “It’s becoming poison.” 

Poison should not be this easy to make. It should not take boiling water and dead leaves. Emma wants to call it impossible, say it couldn’t possibly harm her. But then she feels a sudden and sharp pressure on her chest. Like a dagger in between her ribs. The scarf over her nose smells like salt and dirt. The taste is rolling off her tongue. So close to the metal of Ivy’s magic. Emma staggers, stepping away from the stove and removes her scarf.

“What are you doing?!” Regina rushes to cover her face with her hand.

“I can feel it,” Emma replies against her hand. “Everywhere.” 

Her eyes are burning and her chest becomes tighter and tighter. Regina pushes her out into the hallway and into her apartment. She moves fast, tilting Emma’s head back and pouring water on her eyes. Making her drink glass after glass of milk. Rubbing a minty balm on her nose and forehead. Until her chest loosens and the invisible dagger doesn’t feel so sharp. Regina is only gone for a second to turn off the stove and open all of Emma’s windows. 

“You’re so sensitive to it.” Regina inspects her eyes and nails. “I’ve never seen this type of reaction before.” 

“Then it must be what Ivy used, right?” Emma coughs. “It should have sort of the same effect on Henry.” 

“At least we know that much now.” She puts her hands on her waist, like she does when an order is about to come. “Any lasting fumes need to be aired out. You’re spending the night here.” 

“OK.” Emma’s voice is rough in a way she can’t help.

“And you need to get out of these clothes,” Regina pulls at the ends of her sweater. “They might have some residue on them.” 

“OK.” Emma says again. 

She thinks of the scar on her side. Wonders if she’ll feel Regina run her fingers on the roughness of it. Desperately wants her to. Have her hand run under the cotton of her shirt, nails rake her skin. Emma isn’t thinking when Regina leads her to the bathroom. Runs the hot water until they’re surrounded by steam. 

“A hot shower will help you breathe.” She explains with a bite to her lips. “I’ll get you something to wear.” 

It’s lucky that everything that must be showing on her skin can be blamed on the heat. That warmth in her neck. On her cheeks. Her racing heart. All Emma can do is kick off her shoes and wait. For whatever it is that will happen next. 

“I think these are a good fit.” Regina says as she hands her neatly folded clothes. Still warm. 

“I..uuh...yeah. Thanks.” Her mind is refusing to give her full sentences. Makes her struggle, too aware of the moment. The same way it did when Regina dressed her wound. Her body going crazy with even the air between them. 

“I’ll leave you to it.” 

_Fuck._

Emma’s mouth goes dry with the heat building inside her. A hot shower won’t help with it. Get her mind off the softness of Regina’s touch. With a deep breath and something like resolve she steps out of her clothes and into the stand-alone tub. Lets the hot spray of water hit her. Muses how even under a curse Regina had managed to have good water pressure. There are at least four different bottles of hair product neatly lined up in front of her. Lavender soap that seems to be newly bought. Pumice rocks. Emma zeroes in on the small things. The spaces between the tiles. Anything, anything to stop thinking of that want inside her. Anything to not think of Regina standing here with her.

Of the what ifs. Her hands studying every inch of her body. Water hitting them both. Teeth grazing lips, grazing darkened nipples. Fingers that would move so slow. With purpose. That would know just _where_ to curl. How mouths would swallow the sounds coming off them. How good it would feel. How good she would feel. Warm. Wet. In between her folds. How fast Emma’s heart would beat, so eager. To give everything. Take it. Gladly. _This much. This how much I..._ And _fuck. Fuck._ If she could just. Just. Emma rubs at her face because she isn’t doing this. Not here. Not in Regina’s shower. When she is just outside the door. 

She quickly brushes her skin with soap and water. Steps outside before she changes her mind. Emma does her best to keep herself standing. Cool that heat inside as she slides into Regina’s clothes. The Springsteen sweatshirt that could have belonged to Emma before hell and that ring on her finger. Couldn’t have been Regina’s but it smells like her. Feels like her. She doesn’t need magic to know it. Her body picks up on it like it were. Pools want at the bottom of her belly. Raw. That’s what it feels like to open the door and step onto the wooden floor outside the bathroom. With every inch of her body beating away. 

Regina is dressed down to a paint-streaked black tee and grey sweatpants. She is setting take out boxes and actual plates on her coffee table. She hums calmly to herself, as if they did this every night. Like this has always been their life. It’s what Emma had kept hidden away in a corner. This image of her, tucking hair behind her ears. Emma feeling that heaviness in the back of her legs. All these years she has wanted this. Nights when it’s just the two of them. But tonight isn’t hers. Not in the way Emma quietly aches for. 

“I thought accidental poisoning might open your appetite.” Regina says with a knowing smirk. 

“You thought right.” Emma decides to focus on the chili and oil in the air. “Not to knock on your previous curse but food’s way better this time around.” 

“Count yourself lucky you never tried Enchanted Forest food.” She settles on the couch and spoons rice onto their plates. “Prepared by unwashed hands no less.” 

“Uh, I had a chipmunk that my mother _hunted._ ” Emma says as she plops down next to her. “She skinned it, which was a fucked up thing to do when for all we knew it was some Disney character.” 

“Please, you got off easy. The amount of times I faked sickness to get out of meals. It made pregnancy rumors fly all around the palace.”

Looking at Regina, the way there is barely a crease on her skin, she forgets that so much time has passed. More than those first twenty-eight years in Storybrooke. The seven after them. The more than ten in Concordia Emma missed and can’t see on her face. So much time that she can talk about the palace and the Enchanted Forest over dinner. Regina’s smiles come easier. Her laughs too. And Emma does everything to stretch them. Make them last longer. Even when she’s full and her eyes are drooping. 

“That can’t be true.” Emma feels her head loll to the side. 

“The stench coming from your mother’s troops was so bad that we could _smell_ them coming,” Regina snickers in a way that sounds so new. “It’s why she never could carry out an ambush.” 

“Are you telling me that the secret to winning a war is _soap_?” 

“Among other things.” Her voice has a sleepy quality to it, it begs her to sink into it. 

“You must have made a good advisor.” Emma fails to fit the words into a laugh. “In Concordia, I mean.” 

“War is always the same,” Regina says, tracing the lines on the palm of Emma’s hand. “My past mistakes made for good lessons.” 

“I…” Her eyes close and she slips. Just like that. “I wish I could have been there.” 

“To fight?” Regina draws new paths on her hand. Down to her wrist. 

“No, not to fight.” Emma gathers the courage to open her eyes. “To just be there. Regina, I missed so much…” 

Maybe she would have worn her hair in a tight braid. Breeches and a leather vest. Walked with a sword on her hip. Caught raisins with her mouth. Regina would have laughed and then tried her luck at getting a raisin into Emma’s mouth. Would have slept in rough mats on hot days. Leaned into each other as Henry married Jacinda. Held Lucy’s hand as she wobbled on logs and rocks.

“I have a habit of doing that to you, don’t I?” It’s masked by a sigh. Her guilt. “Robbing you of time.” 

“Don’t do that,” she says, as firmly as sleep will allow. “I don’t really get why it keeps happening but it will never be your fault.” 

There is a beat or two where only the city replies. When the lights will go out and there will be nothing left to say. 

“I wish you could have been there too.” Regina locks and unlocks their fingers together. “I wished it every day.” 

“Is it because I bathe on the daily?” 

“You’re a menace.” She stifles a yawn and practically slides onto her feet. “Come, it’s getting late.” 

Maybe it’s the way Regina says it. How she switches the lights off. Like they have always been here, always had this life. Where their backs are sore and dinners are late. Where the air always smells like rain and Regina is draped in a blanket of many colors. Where the pale band on her finger has faded. Emma knows only to breathe in. Breathe in and keep that want in a knot before she follows Regina to bed. 

The sheets are cool on her, cool enough that the heat climbing up her back shouldn’t matter. Emma doesn’t know what her place is, what this means. If it means anything at all. Regina curls on her side, runs her hand down to the ends of her hair that are still wet. 

“Not a bad night, all things considered.” Regina’s voice drifts into a hum. To that same lullaby that falls so soft on her. 

Because there is only so much Emma can do against that pull inside her, only so much she can resist. The knot loosens with the warmth of Regina’s breath. Emma lies on her side and places a hand on Regina’s hip. Runs a thumb under right above the hem of her sweats. It’s too dark to read her eyes, they’re too close to see anything but what she wants in them. 

“Tell me a story about something I missed.” 

“Tomorrow.” Regina promises, nuzzles her neck. Lips short of kissing her skin. As if it mattered, as if it could be true. 

* * *

Her lips are chapped and the briskness of the air isn’t helping. Emma bites at the excess skin and readjusts her hair under the beanie. The ferry has her stumbling. Cursing that she had agreed to it. Being atop Henry’s pretend castle was something like this. Nothing seemed to be still and her heart was running up to her throat and back. She braces herself against the metal railing and goes through the words she thinks she should say. _Henry, listen_. It’s as far as she’s gotten with it.

“Hey, are you waiting for someone?” He asks behind her, almost making her yelp.

“I don’t know.” She turns around. “Depends if there is a doughnut to go with that coffee.”

“Beignet.” There could never be anything fake about him. “Because I am nothing but loyal.” 

“Think you and I alone eat twenty pounds of powdered sugar a week.” 

“To balance out the caffeine.” Henry raises his cup and leans forward on the railing. Rubs at his eyes, balancing his coffee in one hand and the beignet in his mouth. 

Regina would call him Emma’s son. With the way he is trying to stay awake by eating and staying on his feet.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” 

“That..right.” She chugs half her coffee thinking it might give her courage. “Kid, I know about PatrolGang.” 

“Yeah?”

“I mean, I know it’s you.” It’s like a trick. To suddenly sound like they’re back at the beginning, when Emma towered over him. And he looked to her to solve his unhappiness. 

“Yeah?” He bobs his head, unafraid and confused. 

“Henry…” _Shit._ Emma feels out of her league. Like that grey day at the playground. “I thought the whole point of us working together was to keep everyone safe.” 

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” He says with a mouthful of dough in his mouth. “Giving people a heads-up and exposing dirty cops…” 

“This is isn’t it...this isn’t.” She doesn’t know if she can explain it. If she even can put into words. 

Henry breathes in. Breathe in to keep his temper and watch his words. Emma would know that anywhere.

“We want to save this neighborhood, right?” He turns his gaze on her and then to the water ahead. “I don’t know...I thought you’d agree with me on that.”

“And that’s why you didn’t tell me?” Emma can feel her concern as a mother scratching her throat. Begging to be used. “Because you thought for sure I’d be on board?”

Henry drops his head in frustration, Emma remembers that gesture from Saturday nights at that empty house in Bear Close. His jaw sets.

“I’ve been gathering info for a while, then I got a tip with some names. I did some cross checking with public records,” He has that look on his eye, like when he is so convinced of Good and Evil. “What was I supposed to do? Not use it?” 

“Tip from who?” Emma feels her brow knitting just as something drops in her stomach.

“I don’t know.” 

“ _Jesus_ , Henry.” 

“What’s this stern talking-to all of a sudden?” He stands upright and hardens his eyes on her.

_“_ Because…. _” You’re my son and it’s part of the deal._ It almost slips out. “There is always a price to pay with these things. Who do you think will be made to pay for it?”

“They could track the IP address of that account. Or make the connection to my podcast, it wouldn’t be that hard…”

Emma shakes her head and takes a sip from her coffee. 

“You assumed too much. Hiding your identity just puts everyone in danger…”

“I...that’s…not” He stammers almost as quickly as he blinks. 

“Who do you think they’ll go after in a place like Hyperion Heights?” Sometimes it’s hard to forget that this is a curse. “Not you. Not me.” 

“Shit.” He goes back to leaning against the railing. “I never thought of it like that.”

“Yeah. You wouldn’t with everything you are.” Emma squeezes his arm. “I didn’t either. Not until I heard Jamilah talk about it.” 

“I was trying not to be another asshole white guy with a podcast,” He laughs and bumps his shoulders to hers. “Maybe I’ll grow a beard and get into craft beer now.” 

“We.uh..we screwed up,” She wants him to know he isn’t alone in this. “We just have to do better.” 

“I know.” 

“Maybe not set up any more anonymous accounts?” Emma bites into her beignet and smiles on reflex. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Henry mirrors her.

They stand in silence and hear the water hit the hull. Feel the wind hit their skin until it’s red. The Sun hits the water and the day is a little less cold because of it. They stay like that for a while, long enough to make Emma hum. Because she needs that silk, tight enough around them both. Tight enough to keep her son safe. Keep him from harm and from doing harm. She hums until she can almost hear the words, almost place them. 

“What’s that?” Henry says, looking startled. Like he had just been shaken awake. 

“Huh?” Emma feels a prick at the back of her neck. “Oh, um..Roni got it stuck in my head.”

“I know it,” Henry’s eyes shine, so different than they did before. “I...I haven’t heard it in years.” 

“Really?” It isn’t that day atop his castle anymore. It’s that day at the orchard again. 

“My uh...a foster mother sang it to me every night. I was five.”

It’s like a burning bright knife to her chest. To her lungs. It’s like smoke in Emma’s memory, the one Regina had gifted her. Words she hadn’t been able to speak. Understand. The lullaby Regina had sung to their son. 

“Life’s funny like that.” Emma tries to not make it sound pained. “What was she like? Do you remember?”

“She... she had this voice. And dark hair. And um...wanted to adopt me, I never forgot that.” Henry rubs at his eyes. “But then it didn’t happen.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I had been so angry at her for letting me go. I didn’t really put it together until some years ago.” 

“Didn’t put what together?” Emma asks with her knees close to buckling.

“It wasn’t her fault. She had a partner,” He glances at her like he’s trying to make sense of it. “I didn’t know that’s who she was back then. Looked something like you, actually.” 

Henry tries a laugh. A small one. And all Emma can do is stand there speechless, nod her head to keep him talking.

“I think I loved them, you know? Closest thing I had to a family.” His words break off like shards. ”I was too young to know that they didn’t send me back. That they took me away from them.”

“Henry…” Steady. She tries to keep from shaking.

“I ended up doing the same to them,” He sniffs, doesn’t even try to blame it on the cold. “In my book.” 

He remembers them. Different than he did before. As real people who were ripped from him. More than just a wish for a mother. Mothers. Because of a lullaby. It’s like balm on burned skin. Emma wipes at the corner of her eyes. 

“I grew up in the system, I get how it is,” It’s her turn to bump her shoulder against his. “Think you can give yourself a break.” 

He looks at her, red eyes and all. Looks at her like he might see Emma Swan in her. 

“We’re just a couple of lost kids, huh?

Emma laughs, releasing everything heavy about them into the wind.


	6. UV Light

It’s tight inside the food truck. It’s all corners and it’s hot enough to make her neck sweat. But the air is sweet and thick. Like the bakeries that had Emma pressing her nose up against the glass. She’d been on her way home, feeling the change in her pocket. Thinking about dinner and Regina turning on the sign at Roni’s when she’d decided to stop by Sabine and Jacinda’s. 

“Hey, thanks for doing this,” Jacinda tells her as she updates a spreadsheet on her phone. “With Antoine taking it out on Sabine it’s just me closing up these days.” 

“Last customer of the day, those are the rules.” Emma says, wiping the steel counters. “Besides, you did bribe me with those free duck beignets.” 

Jacinda shakes her head and laughs. It’s late. A good sign, Jacinda explained. They had to stretch their hours to meet demand. And Emma. She doesn’t mind at all. 

“At this point we should be paying you and Henry for eating everything we put in front of you.” 

It’s easy to see it. Her worn sneakers, the fade of her jeans. Her rolled sleeves and that subtle smile. Emma can see how her son would fall in love with her. Can see how he would have asked her to marry him. See his face, pressing against her hair when she told him about Lucy. 

“Just being a friendly neighbor.”

“You know,” She puts her phone away and closes the metal curtain on the truck. “When I first met you I thought for sure you wouldn’t last long.” 

“Oh.” Emma bites her lip and nods. Jacinda can hardly be blamed for that.

“I didn’t mean...shit. Sometimes I don’t translate stuff right,” Her voice goes up a hitch and her eyes pinch shut for a second. “I mean, I’m glad you stayed.” 

On instinct she scratches the back of her neck and bobs her head again. Daughter-in-law. Who loves her son and doesn’t remember it yet. 

“And I guess I wanted to thank you for what you do for Lucy.” Jacinda stuffs four beignets and two sauce pots into a paper bag. 

“What...what has she said?” 

“Oh not too much. You know, ‘Clark is the coolest’, ‘did you know she can hotwire a car?’ and ‘she read Henry’s book too.” 

“Uh, I have no clue where she might have heard that I can hotwire a car because I didn’t tell…” Fire spreads across her cheeks and down her neck.

“It’s OK. I know you look out for her and she’s skipping out from class a lot less since you have.” 

Emma hasn’t asked. How is it that they lived back there. If Lucy would have run back and forth between houses. Had she been there. How often she would have skinned her knees falling off trees. Had she been there Regina would have made it better with a touch of her finger. And Emma would have gathered Lucy in her arms and followed Regina inside.

“Can’t say I can take all the credit.” She says shrugging her shoulders. 

“Oh, I know that. That’s why I packed for Roni too.” Jacinda stretches to hand her the bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow night at the community center?” 

“Yeah,” Emma smiles. Content in an unfamiliar way. “Of course.” 

“Good.” Jacinda smiles back.

* * *

The places that she saw growing up were a lot like this gym. Just on the verge of breaking down, water damage on the ceiling. The scoreboard is one door slam away from crashing down and the thin floorboards stick to the bottom of her shoes. It doesn’t match the laughter and squeals around them. The music playing at the other corner and the girls jumping rope on the court. 

They’d put her on sign making duty despite her protests and clear evidence that she can’t cut a straight line. Emma sets her tongue in between her teeth and squints her eyes. It still doesn’t look right. She trims off the edge of the thin cardboard paper and manages to make it worse. The groan that runs out of her throat can’t be helped.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Regina says as she draws a perfect circle on hers. “Plenty of children are volunteering for this.” 

“You’re mean,” Emma replies, sticking her tongue out. “And I’m telling.” 

“Truly your mother’s daughter.” There is a shine to her eye she could pick out anywhere. 

“Ha ha if that were true this sign would be giving me less trouble.” She says uncapping a marker. “ ‘YOU CAN SAVE THIS PLACE.’ Does that sound persuasive enough?” 

“Throw in a couple of exclamation marks.” Regina is effortless when it comes to cutting and forming a design. 

“A couple? As in more than one? Mayor Mills, how low you’ve fallen.” 

“Use glitter while you’re at it.” She raises her brow as she glances at Emma.

“Wow. What else are you hiding from me?”

“That’s for you to figure out.” There is enough of an invitation on her lips to make her shiver. 

“Yeah?” Emma thinks. Thinks how grateful she is that her eyes are open. That she can see Regina in sneakers and with a bandana holding her hair back from her face. 

Her breathing grows shallow just in time for her to become aware that they aren’t alone anymore. 

“Is this how grandmas flirt?” Lucy asks, poking her leg with the tip off her shoe.

“Uhh…” Emma blinks and can’t call her anything but her father’s daughter. 

“This is how grandmothers talk, mi vida,” Regina says in a tone that leaves little room for argument.

“Whatever you say, abue.” Lucy narrows her eyes and glances at Emma like she’s responsible for it. “That is coming along great, gran.” 

“Tough luck, kid,” Emma ducks her head and laughs. “I can spot a con when I see one.” 

“OK, OK. You got me,” Lucy admits with a sheepish shrug and settles on the floor. “We haven’t talked about Operation Tinman in a while.” 

“Operation Tinman?” Everything about Regina melts just for Lucy. 

“Because we’re getting his heart back?” She uncaps the glue and cringes her nose at the smell of it.

“Right, that’s…” Emma begins as she watches her granddaughter cover the sign with glitter. 

“I figured something out.” Lucy cuts her off with that perfect mix of Jacinda and Henry. That determined earnestness that just can’t wait. Can’t help itself. “But before I tell you, you have to promise not to go all grandmas on me.” 

“Sweetheart, I don’t even know what you mean by that.” Regina does her best but it’s not enough to convince their granddaughter. 

“We promise.” Emma adds because if anything gran at least implies she is the cool one. 

Lucy takes a sharp breath and throws some glitter on Emma’s sign.

“I know where Ivy keeps her magic.” 

“ _ Lucy _ …” 

“Sara Lucia, we explicitly told you not to…” 

“You promised.” Lucy crosses her arms and glares at them until they settle down. 

“We’re just worried, tesoro.” Regina says, moving closer to her. 

“But we won’t freak out from here on.” Emma looks at Regina, who seems to agree but only just. 

“OK I believe you this time.” Lucy uncrosses her arms and can’t hide that smugness in her smile “It’s not like watching Ivy is hard or something. And I didn’t even do it on purpose, I swear.” 

“No, of course you didn’t.” Regina wipes away some glitter that managed to get on her nose. 

“Abue…” She whines and rolls her eyes. “ _ Anyway _ , I was re-reading dad’s book because I didn’t understand how Ivy still had her powers and stuff. I found that chapter when you and dad go to New York with Mr. Gold and…” 

“The scarf he couldn’t take off.” Emma practically preens with pride for her. 

“Yeah!” She says a little too excitedly and then clasps a hand to her mouth. “It’s a necklace for Ivy. It’s gold and she always wears it. I’ve never seen her without it.” 

Regina pulls her into a one armed hug and presses her forehead against her temple. 

“You’re the smartest girl in all the realms.” 

Emma knows she’s grinning, watching Lucy mold against Regina’s body. 

“And she means it, she’s lived in at least three.” She bumps her foot against Lucy’s leg. “Plus, you’re our grandkid. It has to be true.” 

“So..we could just pull it off and problem solved, right?” 

The crack in Lucy’s voice squeezes at Emma’s heart. She knows it. Just like Henry’s when he believed that curses and monsters were easily defeated. When they must have been the reason why his chest felt so heavy. 

“It’s much too dangerous and none of us should attempt it. Especially not you.” 

A shadow falls on Lucy’s expression and she tries to blink it away. So strong when she shouldn’t have to be. 

“I just thought it’d be good to have a plan B in case…” 

Regina locks onto her eyes and brushes her fingers through Lucy’s hair. 

“In case we don’t make the antidote in time?” Emma asks, wrapping a hand around Lucy’s ankle. “Kid, it won’t come to that. We won’t let it.” 

“We’re close. Your gran identified the poison a few days ago.” 

“I did, yeah. I definitely did that on purpose.” Emma tilts her head as Regina bites down a laugh. 

Lucy looks between them and shakes her head. She didn’t know. Emma didn’t know how the spaces between her ribs could stretch. Keep filling up with everything she had missed. With everything she thought could never be hers. Endless. 

“Actually,” Regina pulls away to cup her cheek. “We could use your help with the next step in our plan.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” Emma replies because she knows the mistake Regina spotted. Keeping Lucy away from the process was only pushing her to take matters into her own hands.

“Two nights from now. We’ll need you to be ready.” 

“What are we doing? Is it dangerous? It is, isn’t it?...”

“Kid, would your abue and I put you in danger?” She tells her, tying her shoelaces tighter.

“Aw, but..”

Buzz. Buzz. Her phone is vibrating in her back pocket. Emma retrieves it, sure it will be either her mother or father. She is already planning it to be a short conversation. Already promising she will call them back soon. 

The caller ID shows a Seattle landline. The app on her phone has the number marked as “HH Police Department”. She knits her eyebrows together and gets up. 

“Hello?” 

“So...you’re not gonna guess where I’m calling from.” The words shake out of him..

“Henry?!” 

At that Regina and Lucy’s eyes grow wide and Emma feels her heart stop. 

“Yeah, that’s me.” He says with a short breath. “I need you to come bail me out.” 

* * *

There is a tingling at the back of her throat. Comes with being sick. With the chill running down her back. Emma bounces her knee, trying to keep her blood from running so cold. Her fingers are locked with Regina’s in the waiting room. But even that won’t stop it. All the what ifs running around in her mind. Crashing into each other. 

What if Regina hadn’t figured out how to siphon her Storybrooke money into Hyperion Heights, what if they had to run around the whole neighborhood trying to scrape two thousand dollars? Leave their son sitting in a cell until they did. Find a bail bondsman. Bail Bondsperson. Someone who did what she used to do. Lend for a fee. With a collateral. Take up extra jobs to pay their debt. Run when they couldn’t. Be pinned to the ground by someone like her. Someone looking to collect a bonus on their bad luck and call it a living. 

This picture, it morphs into her biggest what if. The one she keeps under the heaviest of loads. What if Henry had only been hers. What if she hadn’t been good enough and he’d ended up in police stations much sooner. If he had never been Regina’s and Emma hadn’t kept him safe. Hadn’t taught him better. If she’d been just another single mom in an itchy uniform pawning what little she owned to get her son out. 

What if, what if, what if, what if. 

“He is going to have ink all over his hands.” Regina says with a slight tremor to her voice. “And he is going to smell. Cells are filthy.” 

“We’ll stop for soap.” Emma replies. Her knee still bouncing. 

“And some anti-bacterial. Alcohol will get it off.” She sucks in a breath and tightens her grip. “God, what was he trying to do?” 

“I...I wish I knew.” 

“I know you and I have done worse than breaking and entering. Especially me.” It’s that mix of concern and anger only a mother could manage. The kind that had Regina grounding him and holding back her tears. “But…” 

“I get it,” Emma lies back against the plastic of the chair. “It’s real out here. At least the consequences are.” 

A door opens and an officer stands to let Henry shuffle out. His head is hanging and his hair is sticking up. Like he’s been running his fingers through it. Over and over again. 

“Roni. Clark.” He blinks at them like he would at a bright light. “I...uuh...hi.” 

Emma can feel Regina holding herself back. Anchoring herself in Emma to try and keep from running up to him. Inspect his face. Wrap her arms around him.

“You OK?” It has to be her who asks. Not Regina with a hand to her chest.

“Um, yeah.” He nods, stiff as a board. “Mind if we get out of here?”

“Let’s go.” Regina says like that day they picked him up from school after he’d gotten into his first and only fight. 

If he were thirteen they’d drive to a diner outside Storybrooke. Order waffles in the middle of the day. Have him talk it out with syrup all over his face. Emma would wrangle him into a hug and Regina would kiss his forehead. He wouldn’t say he was a little too old for that. But he isn’t thirteen anymore. He has a stubble and towers over them both. Doesn’t remember them as he should. 

All they can do is follow him outside. To the cold where they don’t know where to stand. What to even say to each other.

“I’ll pay you back,” He tells Emma clearing his throat. “I’ll have it in a few months. I’ll drive extra hours...” 

“Kid, it’s fine.” Emma tries to reassure him as best she can. “Been there, done that.” 

“Tell me you didn’t go see someone for the money.” Henry looks at her so seriously.

“Henry, it’s alright,” Regina wants so badly to soothe him like she used to. “We didn’t go to anyone for it.” 

“We? As in it was your money too?” He says mortified, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I don’t mind.” Regina steps closer gives his shoulder a squeeze. “ _ We _ don’t mind. All you owe is an explanation.” 

Henry smiles weakly at them and he’ll always look the same to Emma. Like their kid with the floppy hair and big heart.

“Can we do it over some drinks? I…”

“Henry!” Jacinda calls after him and he whips around at the sound of her voice.

The collar of her jean jacket is popped up and she might as well be jogging to meet them. It’s not hard to connect the dots. Lucy hadn’t been able to lie to her mother. Not about this. About her father needing help. Emma has stopped counting the way this curse pulls and pulls to tear them apart. 

“Jacinda…” 

“Are you OK?” Her eyes search his face, fingertips brush his hands.

“Yeah Roni and Clark got me covered.” 

“Good.” Something shifts in her expression. Like the glint of a newly unsheathed sword. “What the hell were you thinking? Getting yourself arrested?” 

“I didn’t mean to…”

“No shit!” She pokes at his chest. “What were you doing breaking into a development like that?”

Regina grabs Emma’s wrist. There is nothing they can do but watch. Like two people who aren’t family. Just two friends who posted his bail. 

“How do you know…?”

“Word travels fast in Hyperion Heights.” Jacinda’s eyes are hard on him but never unforgiving. This is who they are to each other. Curse or no curse. “Well? Were you planning to spray paint the place? Trash it? To prove you’re down with us?”

“I was trying to  _ help _ .” He tells her desperately. “Jacinda, you have to believe me…”

“If you were trying to help you would be at the community center right now!” Her feet are firmly planted on the ground. “We could use you! Putting up signs, serving hot dogs. Recording your podcast! Anything!” 

“I thought I had something that could save this place for good and if I didn’t…”

“Dios Santo,” Jacinda rubs her temples. “You just aren’t getting it. I don’t know why...I thought you were different.” 

Henry stands there, dumbstruck. Gaping at her words. Jacinda turns on her heel and Henry reaches for her hand.

“No. Don’t.” 

“Let me explain? Please.” He begs like something snapped in his throat. 

“Henry, I don’t have time for this.” She tells him with a strained voice. “Lucy and Sabine are waiting for me.”

“But…”

“Jacinda needs space now, Henry,” Regina steps up to take his hand. “Come now.” 

He breathes in, looks between them. Bobs his head. Still their son.

“I’m sorry.” 

“I’ll see you around, Roni.” Jacinda nods in Emma’s direction. “Clark.” 

They watch her until she’s turning the corner. With no chance of coming back and changing her mind. Emma gently nudges at Henry’s ribs, tries to put on a smile.

“How about those drinks?” 

* * *

It took half a pack of baby wipes to get the ink off his fingers. They aren’t at Roni’s. Regina had all but stuffed Henry into the back of the Bug and told Emma to drive. It’s an arcade bar. The first result the web search had thrown at her. It’s an old building, the metal gate is still there. It’s dark and the white of their clothes glow under UV lights. Almost empty save for a few people in the back. Faint smell of weed lingers in the air. Start music for the games mixes in with murmuring and it makes her head feel lighter on her shoulders. Watching Henry busy himself button smashing some game he thinks he grew up on. Regina is letting him win. Her brow isn’t furrowed in concentration, her hand leaves the joystick when it shouldn’t. 

“It’s been a round already, kid.” Emma says, leaning against the game. “Think it’s time to talk.” 

Henry drops his head and his character paces from side to side. 

“I fucked up. Big time.” 

“Oh, carino.” Regina slips but doesn’t seem to mind. She rubs in between his shoulders and breathes. Breathes until he does too. 

“You told Jacinda you were trying to help.” Emma wishes he weren’t so tall. So much bigger than she is.

“You’ll chew me out for this one, Clark.” He laughs but she doesn’t. “You said we shouldn’t put those we’re trying to protect in danger.” 

Regina glances at her and Emma has to keep it together. Take a sip of her beer.

“That doesn’t mean you endanger yourself, kid.” She feels it. That hurt. Feels it because it's hers and she had passed it on to him. What is their life compared to the life of others? Emma swallows it back, that knot in her throat. The one that tightens, thinking that her son is just like her. In ways that shouldn’t have been his. 

“I wasn’t trying to. Not really.” He pauses to finish his drink. “I got another anonymous tip in my mailbox. There was something in that development that could help sink Belfry but I had to act fast.” 

“It was a set-up.” Regina says quickly, her nostrils flaring.

“I knew it could be one but I couldn’t risk passing on a chance like that.” Henry presses the A and B buttons with no purpose. “I didn’t want to hide behind a screen. I thought...I thought that whatever happened to me would be worth it. Turns out I came out empty-handed.” 

“Henry…” Her ribcage grows too small for her heart. The bones squeeze at it as Henry avoids her eyes.

“Making up for our mistakes doesn’t mean we hurt ourselves,” Regina smooths the hair at the nape of his neck. “You don’t need to punish yourself for them. It took me a while to learn that.” 

Henry leans into her touch. Doesn’t question it. Like his body remembers and just falls into place. Emma swallows back her tears with three sips of beer. How many years. How many trials did it take to bring them here. To a place that has them glowing incomplete. 

“We just gotta take it day by day,” Emma makes sure his eyes meet hers. “Life’s hard enough as it is. We don’t need to make it harder.” 

He coughs out a laugh and shakes his head. 

“Thanks moms.” 

Her heart leaps out of her throat, the only thing keeping her standing is the steadiness of Regina’s gaze. 

“Woah, umm..talk about a Freudian slip.” He straightens his shoulders and scratches at his chin. “Would that over-prized pizza they have on the menu make you forget it?”

“Uh…” 

“I’m gonna go order it.” He says, practically sprinting to the bar. 

Regina's hand reaches for hers. It’s become a habit. To let her own roam, find a spot at the small of Regina’s back. Draw circles until her fingers settle in that place where her waist begins. And Regina is always busy tracing those paths on her knuckles. 

“He is such a mama’s boy.” Emma tells her. She doesn’t bother hiding the few tears that end up escaping.

“That he is.” Regina whispers, hint of a smile. 

Hint of a smile on her lips made purple under the light. Emma thinks she could kiss her, kiss her and feel the purple of the light. Not mind what they are not. Pretend like it’s only a night out with their son and they’re stealing this moment. When it’s just the two of them. Pretend it’s only a kiss. Quick. Followed by another and another when no one’s looking. 

“What are you thinking?” She asks Emma. Her voice as gentle as her touch. 

“Nothing big, just…” Maybe she could finish that sentence. Finish it if a shadow hadn’t fallen on Regina’s face. “What’s wrong?” 

“What the hell is that viper doing talking to our son?” She hisses untangling herself from Emma and marching towards Henry.

And Ivy. 

The set-up. The trap. So expertly laid. 

“Hi Roni, hi Clark.” It’s sweet, her tone. Almost shy. 

She is dressed in all white, as if she’d known exactly where they would be tonight. The gold of her necklace looks red under the violet. In a different light Emma might see what it is they saw, that they thought could be saved. The vague similarity to Regina. The Regina she first met. Coiffed hair that reaches her chin. Poise. But here, all Emma can see is the glow of her bleached teeth. None of the depth behind her eyes. 

“Get the hell out of my sight before I skin you alive, Belfry.” Regina says with a snarl.

“ _ Roni _ .” Henry chastises her. “Ivy was just telling me how she plans on dropping the charges against me.” 

“Why would she do that?” Emma stretches her fingers. Plants her feet like she learned all those years ago. 

“Because I’m the one who’s been sending Henry anonymous tips.” 

Of course. Of fucking course. That is how poison works, after all. Kill from the inside out. Trick him into following those leads. Like she would into drinking poison. Trick him into believing he might help. That he just might save Hyperion Heights. Separate him from everything and everyone else while he’s at it. Easy to do to a sick heart. 

“I was meant to meet him tonight but my plans hit a little bump.” 

“Did they, really?” Regina’s fist is clenched.

Emma wants nothing more than to knock that person mask she’s wearing. Punch it out of her. 

“Ivy...she has information that could put her mother away.” Henry cuts in.

“And she needs you for that?”

“There are legal complications involved, Clark. I wouldn’t bother a...what is that you do, again?” 

Ivy taps on the pendant at the end of a gold chain. Shaped like a shell, the thing that keeps her in power. And she smiles. Knows that there is nothing they can do.

“Henry, there are other ways to go about this.” Regina tells him, eyes only just watering. “We don’t need her.” 

He knits his brows together and crosses his arms. 

“Don’t we, though? Roni, you’ve been at this for  _ months _ . And you’re still no closer to saving this place. The community center is closing. I’ve seen your books, you’ve been in the red for a few weeks. How long can you afford to stay open after what you did for me tonight?” 

“That’s not fair, Henry.” The pain in Regina’s voice. Emma can feel it on her skin.

“Kid, trust us. Please.” 

“I’m not a kid.” Henry takes a step back from them. “Don’t you see that this could fix everything? For everyone?”

Emma looks away from him, not knowing how to answer. Without curses and magic. 

“If you’re ready to go I can take you to the files.” Ivy clasps her hands together, the picture of innocence. Emma can taste those poisonous fumes again.

“Yeah. Just let me get my coat.” 

“Perfect!” She follows him and waves them goodbye over shoulder. 

Regina moves forward, ready to choke her. Emma has to act quick and grab her by the waist. Still Regina manages to flip Ivy off. It only makes her smile wider and cover her mouth. Henry throws them one last look, one a faint nod.

So convinced this is the right thing. That he has all the answers.

“Emma, what are we going to do?” Regina asks still in her arms as they watch Henry leave. 

All she does, all she can do is hold her closer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you think!


	7. A Gringa and Ginger Ale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy super nervous about this but HERE IT IS.

Blue tile lines the spot where the wall and ceiling meet. The walls are white washed and the coal stoked fires make it warm inside.The floors are a polished yellow tile. Emma can’t recognize the music being played in the kitchen. Details. Emma can’t help but pick them up wherever she is. She drums her fingers on the wooden table and tries to remember Storybrooke. If there were places like Afiv Mansour’s. Places that felt carved out of a bigger world. Even after the curse had broken. They had all been jukeboxes and gray and beige places. People too willing to be painted colorless. It makes her wonder if they had ever really belonged there. 

“I ordered you tea.” Regina tells her as she takes a seat across from her. 

“Not coffee?”

“It’s better for your health.” 

“You can just say you think I’m getting old, you know.” Emma knows it falls flat. 

Because they haven’t slept. Because they don’t know what to do about their son. Don’t know what to do about Henry leaving with Ivy. About him not answering their messages beyond a simple thumbs up. 

“You’ll live longer.” She sighs in a way Emma isn’t supposed to notice. “I’ve ordered us a full breakfast. I think we’ve earned it, all things considered.” 

Emma bobs her head in agreement. Takes a second to see how Regina fits into this place. How her shoulders relax in a way they rarely did in Storybrooke. How that glow of her skin doesn’t hide behind scarves and tailored coats. Emma has to know, needs to ask. 

“How come there were no places like this in Storybrooke?” 

“Hmm?” Regina’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “What do you mean?” 

“Like, there was never…” She isn’t sure how to say it. “It was Granny’s and Mario’s. Which you not so secretly hated. And Main Street, it was Tillman’s, Smith’s and Johnson’s.” 

“Oh. That,” Regina seems to welcome the question. “The Enchanted Forest wasn’t the most diverse of places, despite what the faeries say. Concordia was.” 

“Is that it?”

Regina’s smile seems timid. Like it hardly ever is. 

“The original curse was cast on Rumple’s blue-print. This one, however..” 

“Is all you.” Emma catches her eyes growing darker. “I mean. I can tell.” 

“How?” Regina tilts her head, morning light crowning her head. “How can you tell?” 

“I don’t know...it’s a feeling.” She wishes she could pin-point her thoughts. Word them without getting tongue tied. “I get it whenever I take a look at this place.”

“Is it a good feeling?”

“Yeah. It is.”

The tips of her fingers reaching for Regina’s do a better job at explaining whatever is floating around in her chest. That feeling of easiness, that she can only recognize because it happened so sparingly in her life. No place where it was too tight. No place where Emma had to stop breathing to fit in. All Regina. Home. Down to the details. 

Regina closes her eyes and hums for a second. Contentment, Emma wants to hope. It’s the bustle of silverware and china that makes her look away. 

“Ah, here we are.” Afiv says as he balances a tray too big for his frame. “Right way to start your day if you ask me.” 

“Woah, wow.” Emma can’t help saying it watching him place dish after dish on the table.

Fried eggs in a tomato sauce. Fresh bread. Chickpeas in a stew. Hummus, meat mixed into spices. Two steaming cups of tea. She can’t pick just one thing that is making her mouth water.

“Told you.” Regina says helping arrange the plates on the table. 

“You said bring me everything’s that good!” He playfully swipes his towel at Regina. “What am I to do if everything is good? Other than worry about your purse, of course.” 

“I have more than enough to go around, Afiv.” The way she says it, it’s like Regina is still queen. “It all looks delicious, as usual.” 

“And all halal too,” He looks at Emma and chuckles. “Good for Roni too, closest she’ll get to kosher without leaving the neighborhood. How long has it been since Mrs. Medina closed her doors?”

Emma tears some of the bread as she listens. Listens to this world she vaguely remembers from Regina’s memories. From the lullaby. Night, morning prayers. Things that vanish like dust from her mind. She should have known. Should have thought more of it. 

“Too long.” Regina tells him with a somber look on her face. 

“Don’t let me keep you!” Afiv smiles kindly. “Eat, eat!” 

“He is the nicest man.” Emma says as she watches him head back into the kitchen. The fire grows a wilder shade of orange as he stokes it. 

“He was a merchant in Concordia,” Her eyes grow soft with her words. “The finest fabric from across the Sea came on his ships. His wife was the best dressmaker in the whole kingdom. I always went to them for Lucy’s birthday dress.” 

“She must have loved that.” She thinks of her granddaughter. Dressed in blues and blacks, running on bare feet on the grass. Maybe Emma has the picture all wrong. “Regina, can I…” 

“Yes?” Regina spoons chickpeas onto a piece of bread. 

“How come…how come I didn’t...how come you didn’t really talk about being...”

“Jewish?” Her laugh reassures her. “It never really came up in conversation.” 

Emma takes a mouthful of eggs and swallows quickly. “Maybe it should have? I should have asked.” 

She laughs again and takes a sip of her tea. Gaze set on hers. It’s one of those moments, she catches the realization as it happens. Small and distinct. The kind she’d revisit lying awake in that house in Bear Close. 

“I was taught to hide it as a child. By my father out of fear and by mother out of ambition. It wasn’t safe let alone desirable in the Enchanted Forest. And I suppose I just got used to tucking it away. I’m sure your father would say the same.” 

“My father?” Her eyes pinch shut from embarrassment. “Oh, yeah. King David who was a shepherd boy. I knew that.” 

“Storybrooke made it easy to forget.” Her voice is far removed from any harshness that might shame her.

Emma nods with the picture forming clearer in her mind. This place, every atom of it is stubborn. Holding on so tight that it won’t let people forget. 

“That’s why Hyperion Heights.” 

“I tried to make it less like a curse. More like a possibility of who we would be out here,” Regina presses her lips together. ”It didn’t quite work. It was never going to.” 

The tea is minty and warm on her lips, gives Emma time to think of an answer. To line up their facts and plans, let her body settle into some sort of reassurance. 

“It won’t be much longer until we beat this,” Emma steals cheese from Regina’s side. “We’ve got our thing with Lucy tomorrow night, remember?”

“How can I forget?” Regina manages to shake her head with a grin. “She messages our group chat every three hours about it.” 

It’s what they had promised her last night. That they absolutely needed her help for their plan to work. And they do, they need all the magic they can get. Out in this muddled real world.

“Just a short drive and we’ll be…” Emma stops and furrows her brow as Afiv rushes out of the kitchen with another cook. 

A remote is in his hand and the grin on his face blinding. His cheeks are red and there is practically a kick to his steps.

“Look, look!” He says turning on the TV he keeps in a corner of the place. “I had a feeling about this morning!”

It’s only a bunch of cameras at first. Then Emma begins to recognize the scene. Just a ten minute walk from this place. Belfry’s offices. Victoria Belfry being escorted into a black SUV that looks official. FBI jackets blocking the view. 

_ Real Estate Mogul Involved in Police Corruption Case _

“I knew it! I knew this would happen sooner or later.” Afiv claps and puts an arm around his cook’s neck. “God is great.” 

Ivy Belfry hangs back with her head low. Her hand on the golden pendant. A chill crawls down her back This is exactly what Ivy wanted. Emma searches for Regina’s eyes and finds them brittle. She looks at Emma like her heart is in her throat. 

Tomorrow night. There is still time, Emma has to believe that.

* * *

_ So...do I need any special gear for tonight??? _

_ Yeah. Eye of newt, wing of bat, skin of a chicken _

_ Don’t listen to her, carino. Here is an actual list of NECESSARY _

_ Items: _

_ Raincoat _

_ Rain boots _

_ Scarf _

_ Sweater _

_ EXTRA SOCKS _

_ Don’t forget some snacks too, kid. If you could sneak out something from _

_ Sabine’s kitchen that’d be 100% _

_ EMMA. You don’t need to do that, sweetheart.  _

_ Omg grandmas lol _

Lucy can’t help it if she laughs. She doesn’t know how they can manage to be like  _ that _ . It’d been one thing to read her dad’s book and try and picture what her gran looked like. When it was so obvious that her abue was head over heels stupid in love with her. It’s another to see it happen every time they speak. It’d be gross if it weren’t cute, she supposes. 

“De que te ries tu?” Her mom asks as she kisses the top of her head. 

“Nothing.” Lucy smiles and means it. She’s been smiling since Victoria was arrested and Ivy had packed her bags. “Just happy.” 

“You excited about spending the night at Roni’s?” Her mom knows. Her mom always knows. 

“And work on my science homework.” She furrows her brow and tries to look as serious as possible.

“Claro, mi nina. I believe you.” She says as she begins to fold the clothes she thinks Lucy will need. “Roni will take you to school and I will pick you up. We can get something to eat later, that good?” 

“Uhhuh, yeah.” Lucy nods her head a little too hard. 

It’s kind of hard to believe her abue had convinced mom to go along with it all. But she isn’t dumb. With mom and tia Sabine working long hours she knows they worry about who will look after her. And they won’t just leave her alone in the apartment. No matter how much Lucy says she’s old enough. 

They spend the rest of the afternoon running errands. Gomez’s, the bank. The co-op, the pharmacy for Mrs. Omar. Lucy happily does it, loves it that her mom still takes her hand. That she has Lucy carry a bag of groceries. It almost makes her wish she could stay in the food truck with her and tia Sabine. Almost. Because what they’re doing today will bring her dad back. And there can be more, better days. 

“Tienes mi número.” Her mom tells abue when it’s time and they’re at abue’s door. “Anything, anything happens, you call me.” 

“Yes, anything at all.” Abue agrees with her most serious expression. “Jamilah will be manning the bar and we’ll be upstairs working on Lucy’s book report.” 

“Science homework.” Lucy widens her eyes and tilts her head so that her abue know she messed up. “It’s a report on marine mammals.” 

“My mistake.” She smiles. Abue isn’t even trying. “Science report.” 

Her mom shakes her head and pulls her into a hug. 

“Portate bien.” 

“When do I not?” Lucy returns and it only makes her mom slap her butt to push her inside. 

“Bye.” 

Abue closes the door behind them and places Lucy’s bag on the couch. And she can’t help it, really. Can’t help if she is balancing herself on the balls of her feet and  _ needs _ to know.

“When is gran getting here?”

Abue laughs and slides into a pair of boots by the door. Lucy doesn’t remember enough to know what she wore before. How different she is in Hyperion Heights. She doesn’t think it can be much different, judging by the way abue looks at her. 

“Emma is getting her car.” She turns to the kitchen. “Come help, carino.” 

“Where are we going?” Lucy asks as she holds onto an icebox. “Is it far? It is, isn’t it?” 

All she gets is a hum in reply. 

Sometimes. Only sometimes Lucy wishes her abue was a little less mysterious. 

* * *

She has a stomachache. The worst one she’s ever had, Lucy is sure of that. Worse than when she went and got her dad. Lucy sips on the ginger ale abue had given her and sinks back into the seat. The backseat of gran’s yellow bug. Stupid stomachache is so bad it’s ruining her excitement about it. 

“It’ll get better when we get there, I promise,” Abue turns to look at her. “It’s the curse losing its hold on you.” 

“Are we close?” She groans and her gran has the audacity to laugh. 

“Yeah kid, we’re close.” Her green eyes shine different on the rearview mirror. “We just needed to get away from the city.” 

“Wherever it is there better be marshmallows.” 

They think Lucy doesn’t see it. How abue smiles when gran catches her eye. How abue runs her fingers across the hand gran uses to shift gears. Lucy doesn’t miss anything. Not once, not ever. 

She closes her eyes and wishes she could sleep the rest of the way. It’s only a minute or two when she gives up on the idea and spies a snowy mountain top in the distance. The trees that are growing more and more naked. Her mind says this is the place she always remembers. But it’s like her heart knows it wrong. Lucy remembers the heat and tia Sabine singing with the water up to her knees. It makes her throat itchy and she thinks she might cry. And she doesn’t really get why. 

But she’s too old for that. Lucy tries to focus on the wheels hitting the road and on counting the cars that pass them. Until gran drives off the road and it turns to dirt. And leaves cover the ground.

It’s a cabin in the middle of the woods. No sooner is abue lowering down her seat than she is scrambling to get out of the car. The air chafes her cheeks but it’s good. It makes it easier to breathe. Lucy puts one foot in front of the other and feels her steps grow wobbly. Splotches of black cloud her eyes.

“Woah Lucy, I got you.” Her gran puts an arm around her shoulders. “I know we like to play like we’re tough but we don’t have to.” 

Abue stops to inspect her face, press the back of her hand to her forehead. It makes her want to cry again. But she doesn’t. Lucy tries her hardest.

“Abue, I…”

“I know, mi vida. I know.” She runs a thumb on her cheek. “How about we go inside and make it better?” 

She nods and doesn’t argue when gran insists she climb on her back. Doesn’t argue when abue wraps her in a blanket on the couch. Gran gets a fire started and plops down next to her. It makes Lucy wonder if it was like this when her dad had been a boy.

“Nice digs, huh?” The nudge she gives her is barely there. “You know when I was kid I didn’t think places like this actually existed.” 

Lucy blinks and tries to understand what she means. There is a rug in front of the fire. And the kitchen where abue is reheating some soup is kind of big. Copper pans hang from a rack in the ceiling. Everything is made from wood and stone. But there isn’t very much Lucy never thought could be real. Lucy thinks it’s something else she means.

“I grew up in places like Hyperion Heights though the people weren’t always so nice,” She is wearing a sweater Lucy is sure she borrowed from abue. Red and golden. “This was the stuff you only saw in movies.” 

“You never thought you were the Savior?”

Gran sighs and kicks off her shoes. Sometimes Lucy thinks there is something sad about her. Only barely there and never when abue is around. It’s something else with abue, Lucy can’t find a word for it. 

“Maybe I would have if I were a little more like you.” She messes with her hair as she says it.

“ _ Gran _ .” Lucy pushes her hand away and that makes her laugh “What are we doing out here?” 

“Breathing that fresh mountain air.” She grins like she knows that not knowing is driving Lucy insane. 

“Why won’t you or abue tell me anything?” Lucy feels herself glowering and that only makes her gran snort. 

“Nothing wrong with a little surprise in life, kid.” 

“Nah ah, no one thinks that.” She whines and pulls the blanket off her shoulders. 

“Dinner’s ready!” Abue calls from the kitchen. 

And Lucy sees it. The way gran’s eyes turn a lighter and greener. Maybe it’s something she’s been waiting to hear her entire life. From what she knows from her dad’s book, from the way he wrote gran meeting abue. How gran thought she was part of a wish come true. Maybe she finally got it. 

“Come on, there are fried cheese balls involved.” She practically slides on the floor. 

Lucy follows her example, glides on the wooden floor towards the kitchen. It’s warmer here and abue has her sleeves rolled up. And she smiles as she hands her an empty bowl. It’s like something stirs in the back of her head. 

“There is white rice for the soup and chile but only if you think you can handle it.” 

“I can handle it.” Lucy says as she pours soup into her bowl. Gathers what looks like green plantain and yuca. 

“Of course we can.” Her gran winks and nudges her arm. 

“Don’t let her talk you into anything, she cannot take spice.” 

“I thought gran was the strongest person you know?” She blinks up at her abue, feigning innocence. 

It’s worth it, to see her get flustered. Hold the kitchen towel tighter and not know what to answer. 

“She’s got you there, Your Majesty.” 

_ That _ earns her a glare and threat of no dessert. They sit at the kitchen table with a basketful of fried corn and cheese balls. Making one after the other float around in the soup before they eat. It feels, it feels like it might have been her favorite. It warms her chest and her ears. Hearing her abue laugh and cover her mouth with a napkin makes her smile. It’s like...maybe dinner used to be like this. Before she was made to have it in her room or with Victoria Belfry at one end of a table. Lucy thinks so. Gran’s face is red with the chile she couldn’t handle. Abue says  _ see, I told you,  _ as she slides a cheeseball her way. And she’s happy, today is the happiest she’s been. The same must be true for her grandmas. 

Abue tells them a story as they eat apple pie by the fire. It's one from when she was a girl, she says. Her father told her it to her, a princess of an ancient city and how she saved her people from a tyrant who tried to destroy them. She took her handmaiden and tricked him into believing them weak. He lost his head for it. She tells them another when Lucy climbs onto bed with them. This one was about a queen with a secret plan to save her people from her husband. She fights sleep as hard as she can until gran says they’ll wake her when it’s time. With that she dreams of queens and princesses with their faces. They dance and fight together and everything is as it should be. Lucy feels like she spends forever in her dreams. 

“Hey, hey,” Fingers part her hair. “Wake up, kid. It’s time.” 

“Two minutes.” Lucy bargains.

“Two minutes and we’ll be late.” Gran insists slowly pulling the covers away from her. “And you don’t want to miss it, do you?” 

At that Lucy’s eyes fly open and she jumps out of bed. Almost slips as she races to the front door. 

“Wait, wait. We gotta get you ready.” Gran tells her, handing her two extra layers of her clothes and her boots. “No need to freeze to death.” 

“Thought you said we were gonna be late.” Lucy mutters as she zips and buttons as fast as she can. 

All she gets is a shrug. Sometimes, only sometimes she wishes her gran weren’t so good a conwoman. 

The wind hits her square in the face when they step outside. The sound the trees make as the it races between them is nothing like Lucy’s ever heard before. They look silver under the moonlight. It makes her heart race. Abue is standing in a clearing, legs practically dancing from the cold. She stretches out her hand to Lucy as she gets closer.

“What’s going on?” Lucy asks, trying to decipher the look on her face.

Abue smiles and hands her a book. Her dad’s book. 

“We’re getting answers tonight.” 

“But I’ve read this like five times and…” 

“No, not from the book.”’ She looks up to the night sky. Clearer here than anything in the city. “From them.” 

Lucy gasps and feels her heart jumping and jumping at the thought. 

“We’re going to talk to the stars?” It’s too good to be true. Too much out of a story. 

“Pretty neat if you ask me.” Gran pulls her hoodie from under her coat. 

“But there’s no magic out here, how are we gonna do that?” 

“Magic in the little things. It’s how I managed to get through to your abue without breaking the curse.” The way she’s smiling.  _ What a dork _ , Lucy thinks. 

“And stars trade in surprise and wonder,” Abue kneels onto a blanket that blends in with the ground. “We couldn’t tell you until the last possible second. Until the stars had aligned.” 

Her heart just goes faster and faster. She can feel herself grow warmer inside her clothes. Lucy doesn’t know any magic. She doesn’t think so, anyway. She isn’t like abue with her books or like gran with her strength. 

“Are...are you sure I can do this?” Lucy presses her dad’s book against her chest. 

“If anyone in the whole world can it’s you.” Gran squeezes her shoulder and leads her to the blanket.

She and abue lie down and Lucy understands that her place is in between. Looking up at the stars. So she lies between them. Not an inch to spare.

“Wow.” They’re so clear, so bright. They even seem to dance in the black of night. 

“You see that one?” Her abue points at three stars. “That’s the Hunter. He helped me find your father many years ago.” 

Gran takes her hand. Lucy doesn’t know who needs it more.

“Tonight we’re going to ask him to hunt for a cure.” 

“But I don’t know how.” She squeezes her gran’s fingers. 

“I’ll teach you.” Abue seems to be speaking to the two of them. 

Her hand reaches for the book lying on her chest and spreads it open. She places it at their feet, like it’s gazing up at the stars too. 

“Try and repeat after me.” Now her hand is in hers. Locked fingers and all. “It’ll feel strange at first but you’ll get the hang of it.” 

The words feel weird on her tongue, it’s true. Like she maybe forgot them once. Gran’s voice is clear, words sounding just a little different coming from her. Lucy only half understands them. In the middle of it Gran reminds her to keep her eyes open and think, think of her dad. So Lucy does. Eventually she begins to understand the words. Cazador, cazador, won’t you hunt for a cure for a poisoned heart? Won't you hunt for a spell? My papa, he is sick. Our son, she hears in gran’s and abue’s voice, he’s sick. Our first born, our only son. He doesn’t remember who he is. Henry Daniel Mills. De amor y sangre. Lucy repeats until her throat aches. She thinks she might be crying because she remembers. Durme, durme querida hijica. Durme, durme sin ansia ni dolor. 

It comes clear in her head. The Hunter. No llore, Princesa. Que pronto encuentro la cura. His heart will mend. The Hunter seems to run across the clouds and return with a trail of stardust. 

Suddenly she gets the urge to reach for her dad’s book. Just when gran and abue do the very same thing. Abue holds the left side and gran the right side. Lucy presses her hand to its pages and listens. Listen, Alteza. In five day’s time, just after my Father hides his fiery crown behind these mountains. That is the time for the brew and the spell. Sienta con la fuerza de sus abuelas. And she does. Feels spice in her mouth, bitterness. Sweetness and smoke. And the words on the page rearrange themselves into pictures and verses. And she can’t, she can’t believe. 

But the stars don’t stop there. The Hunter doesn’t stop talking. And she can hear her mother’s name being called. Ella, Ella. Tia Sabine bathing in a river. Tiana. Queen Tiana. A palace made of alabaster. Lucy learned that word when she was seven. White and cool stone. The palace that became the people’s. Accordions and violins. Figs. Gators and oropendolas. Jamilah. Milah and red sails. Lucy remembers. She remembers her father dancing with her. Prayers on Friday night. Stories on Saturday. Her hands in dough. Lighting and salt water. 

And Lucy doesn’t care if she’s too old for it. She crawls onto her gran’s lap and reaches for her abue. 

“Abue, abue,” Lucy cries like she used to in stormy nights. “I remember everything.” 

“You did so well, mi vida.” Abue whispers against her hair. 

“You’re the greatest, kid.” Her voice is raspy and she realizes they’ve all been crying. 

Gran holds them closer. Until Lucy can’t tell where they begin and end. 

* * *

The handle almost slips from her grasp. It’s a tight corner that they should be able to manage but it’s giving them more trouble than she thought. Seven flights of stairs up to Sabine and Jacinda’s place, even if it’s not the most ideal. The building is one of the oldest ones in Hyperion Heights, stands against the new Belfry developments. It’s all brick and wood. It’s supposed to make tonight mean something. A celebration. Emma wishes she could see it that way. Wishes Ivy Belfry had gone to prison too. That she weren't hanging over their heads like this. 

“Just our luck to be stuck on ice duty.” Tilly tells her with a grunt. 

“You’d rather be moving the grill?” Emma lifts the damn icebox and goes up a step. “Have you seen that thing?” 

“They got to use the lift.” Tilly points out as they push and pull over the last few steps. 

“There’s an elevator?!”

“Thought you knew? Needs a key to work though. And neither you or I qualify for that privilege.” 

“What, why?” She rubs her temples and then her eyes. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. We made it.” 

Emma knocks on the door and hears someone yell  _ it’s open! _ . It doesn’t register at first because Storybrooke used to mean Granny’s. It meant only some got to go. Meant Regina leaving early, even after everything. It was never for those living at the edge of town, those who thanked the curse for a better life. But in Hyperion Heights it means everyone bumping into each other as they help set up. Chairs are being pushed against the wall and an old couch being made to face the kitchen.

It’s nothing like she’s ever seen. 

“First time?” Tilly pokes her as she nods towards the kitchen. 

“Do I stick out that much?”

“Not quite like a sore thumb,” She laughs as she pushes the icebox. “But you do an awful lot of staring.” 

Sabine is in the kitchen, apron tightly tied around her waist. Knife moving impossibly fast on white onions. A pot looks to be bubbling on the stove and a pan is sizzling with oil. She looks at them over her shoulder and sighs in relief.

“Thank God,” Sabine breathes out as she pushes the onions into a bowl. “If one more auntie came in to say how ‘ice would go good with drinks’ I was going to lose it.” 

“Glad to save the day.” Emma slides out of her jacket and rubs the back of her neck. 

“You can leave that on the second door to the right.” She says with a look of mischief in her eye. “Tilly, think can you julienne these for me?”

“If I do, would it mean I’m hired?”

Emma hears Sabine laugh and talk hours with Tilly as she heads into the hallway. It’s tight and a single bulb lights the way. There are only three doors here, two bedrooms and a bathroom. Second door to the right. It’s open just a crack, enough for Lucy’s voice to come through. Saying prayers with Regina by her side. Friday just before sunset. Emma waits until she catches the tail of them. 

“Is this the coat room?”

“Gran!” Lucy exclaims practically sprinting to meet her. 

Emma runs a hand through Lucy’s hair and takes a quick look of what the curse has meant for her. Henry, had he only been hers, had she done right by him. He would have had a room much like this one. Cramped, where the bed takes up most of the room. Two shelves holding more than they should. Shoes scattered all over the floor. But it’s all so Lucy, ballet shoes hanging from the dresser. Jean jacket hanging from a hook behind the door. Half-read books and scattered notes. It’s easy to see how she’d wasted no time in making this her forever room. Away from Belfry’s tower. 

“Ready to party?” She asks because they haven’t had the heart to tell her. Say that this isn’t really a victory. Not yet. Not after the stars had talked to her. 

“My dad’s coming, did you hear that?” 

“He might have mentioned it, yeah.” Her heart begs her to say something else. “Told him to pick up a cake on his way here.”

“Of course you did.” Regina takes Emma’s coat and tosses it on the bed. And she tries to smile.

Because pretending is hard. Harder now that Lucy remembers it all. They’d held her out in the woods until she was all cried out. Tucked her in bed between them, not knowing what else to do. Still the Lucy she met that day in a hole beneath the ground but with the weight of her memories. 

“He has no  _ idea  _ that come Monday he’ll be a new man.” Lucy looks between them. “Well, more like a new version of his old…”

“Best to keep that to ourselves, mi vida.” Regina interrupts her with a bop to her nose.

“You know I can keep a secret, abue,” Her expression shifts and she looks a little older than ten. “I’m just...excited for this to be over.” 

“We all are,” Emma gives her shoulder a squeeze. “How about we try and enjoy tonight first, huh?” 

Lucy nods and scurries out of the room. 

“How is she really doing?” She asks sitting on the bed and stretching her legs. 

“Sometimes I think she can tell there is something we’re holding back from her,” Regina replies, as she joins her on the bed. “But mostly I think she’s managing as best as she can.” 

“She’s the strongest one of us” 

Regina places a hand on her knee, thumbs circles on her thigh.

“That she is,” Her eyes fall on the scented candles on a night stand. “She asked me to come early and say the blessing over them.” 

For a moment Emma watches the flame, barely flickering. Making the room smell like vanilla. It isn’t enough but it’s all they have. Saying it in secret, when they weren’t used to keeping it one.

“You should join us next time.” It isn’t politeness, it’s her answer to Monday morning at Afiv’s. “We’ll do it properly then.” 

“I..I’d like that.” Emma says feeling something move in her chest. 

It’s strange. To think of how things might have changed by next Friday. Strange to think how they’re sitting on their granddaughter's bed, with the sound of a growing party outside the door. Emma thinks that if Henry’s heart weren’t poisoned she might try again. Try and see if it’s true love. Because of that thing moving in between her ribs, in and out of her chest. 

Maybe. Maybe that deep brown in Regina’s eyes means she feels it too. 

There is a knock on the door followed by Jacinda sticking her head in, eyes pinched shut. 

“There is nothing to see, Jacinda.” Regina says, pulling her hand away from her knee. 

Maybe. Maybe Emma was just seeing things again. 

“Hate to do this,” Jacinda smiles sheepishly. “But Don Jaime got in his head he wanted some old cocktail and you know…”

“The rest of them followed?” Regina offers as she gets to her feet. 

“Yeah. They are all in the kitchen driving Sabine crazy.” 

Emma winces thinking of at least ten old men searching for cocktail glasses and opening cabinets looking for whatever booze they need. 

Regina throws Emma an apologetic look over her shoulder. 

“Go, save the day. I’ll be fine.” She tries to reassure her with a smile. “I’ll mingle.” 

* * *

It’s a funny feeling. That pulls in her stomach whenever Emma sees a new face. It takes her a while to put a name to it. To realize it’s dread and relief. Her gut reacting like it would in Storybrooke. Dread that every new person would lead her to a corner, tell her all about their missed happy ending. How if she could just help them, give them that little push. Find that missing slipper, that rose, talk to that witch. If she could, if she could. But there is none of that here. Just pats on her back and kisses on her cheek. Easy laughs over drinks. Until they’re climbing the stairs to the rooftops and lining up in front of the giant grill. 

“Hey, you should get one of these. It’s named after you!” A man named Hector says holding up her plate for her to see a cheesy tortilla.

“It’s called a gringa,” Jacinda shakes her head but serves her one all the same. 

“Umm…”

“Hey, don’t look at me. I’m just as confused as you are.” She tells her as she pours sauce over it. “This isn’t Dominican.” 

Emma laughs and nods in thanks. She thinks of finding Regina and asking her to mock-explain the name of the dish. But then she spots Henry, hands in his pockets. In a corner, just watching the party happen. He raises his hand in her direction, Emma knows that gesture. She isn’t meant to come closer but Emma can’t ignore that. He’s her son. 

“Hey.” Emma sees her breath freezing over the word.

“Hey.” His lips twitch upward but never form a smile.

“Did you just get in?”

“Yeah. Dropped off the cake and sodas downstairs. Sort of followed my nose up here.” 

Something is different about him but she doesn’t know what it could be. Emma hasn’t seen him since he walked away with Ivy and they hadn’t been able to stop him. 

“Can’t let the cold stop tacos.” Emma mumbles and takes a bite from her gringa. Pretends she can’t feel the chill in the air. “Aren’t you gonna get some?”

He shakes his head and shrugs for good measure.

“I...I picked something up when I stopped for the cake.”

“Ki..Henry.” She says because he isn’t a kid anymore. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing. It’s…” He blows air out of his mouth. “We did what we set out to do. Victoria Belfry will go to jail. Maybe take down a couple of people with her. Hopefully that’ll be enough for a happy-ish ending.” 

“Why do I feel there’s a but coming?” 

Emma studies him. The way the skin around his eyes crinkles like hers. And thinks what they had asked the stars for. Remembers not understanding the words as she said them along with Regina and Lucy. Not understanding until she did and her voice became one with Regina’s. Asking the stars to help heal their only son. She saw him just like this as her throat ached, saw him being carried away from her. Ten and seventeen. 

“No, no but.” He scratches the back of his head. “You, uh, haven’t been keeping up with my podcast, have you?”

“Shit. I’m sorry, it...kinda slipped my mind.” It’s all the truth she can afford right now.

“It’s OK.” He says sucking in a breath. “I sort of talked about the details of this whole Belfry affair. What it means for the neighborhood that she’s going down and I guess someone picked up on it. “ 

“Oh?” 

“Apparently I was the first one to take that angle. They went back and listened to the whole series. And they want to interview me on Monday.” 

“That’s great!” Emma’s heart clinches in her chest. “Moving onto the big leagues.” 

“Yeah, I’m taking the red-eye on Sunday.” He looks at her like he knows it might be wrong. “Interview’s in New York.” 

_ No, no.  _ Emma could scream it. 

“But you can’t.” It escapes her as she braces herself against the brick. “You can’t leave.” 

It’s bitter the way he laughs and Emma can feel the poison coursing through his veins. 

“Why not?”

“What about Lucy and Jacinda?”  _ What about us?  _ That she buries under her tongue. “And,,,and the community center thing on Sunday?”

“They...they don’t need me.” He gulps down nothing but air “All my time here, I was just kidding myself. For a while I thought….I don’t know…”

“You... thought what?” Emma struggles with the question because this can’t be happening. Not when they were so close to getting him back.

“Thought I belonged. That maybe I’d...I’d get a family in the end,” Henry’s eyes wander to Jacinda. “But that’s too much like one of my stories.” 

It’s another of her shadows that has made its way here. She’d seen it out in that clearing in the woods too. That it could all go away, that it could be taken from her. Because it was never meant to be hers. She thought that as she felt Lucy’s hand clasped with hers. Seen it until Regina’s voice had chased it away.

There is nothing Emma can say, nothing that can change his mind. Not when his heart is poisoned. It’s painted all over his face, like a view of the past. The urge to run, run before he’s told to leave. 

“Let me...let me drive you, at least.” She offers hoping it would buy them some time.

He nods in thanks and runs his fingers through his hair.

“I’m gonna go find a beer.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So at this point I think it's pretty obvious I project a lot into Regina lol. This chapter it represents a wish for a past that I (maybe) lost/lost & unknown ancestors. And the religious journey I've been on for years. Hyperion Heights is based off neighborhoods I've lived in (SHOUT OUT TO NORTH LONDON) and a lot of the characters (like Afiv Mansour and his real self in Concordia) are based off people I've known at different stages of my life. 
> 
> The party is just like any regular party in a house that's too small but you just GOTTA HAVE that rented flatop grill.
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think! Thanks for reading!


	8. Cinnamon and Hot Chocolate

Sundown. Emma watches for it from a window in Regina’s place. It’s painting the whole of it orange and Emma’s chest is about to burst with worry. Henry is leaving. This, this moment is their only chance at getting this right. Emma knows down to her bones that if he leaves they’re lost. Ivy is counting on it. Counting that her plan worked and she can watch their family disintegrate from her tower. 

Emma had practically raced downstairs, pulled Regina from cocktail making. And she’d known that the other shoe had dropped before Emma said a word. Regina had steeled her eyes, angled her chin and tried. Tried to keep herself together. But Lucy. Lucy had slammed her door when they’d said  _ your dad is flying out tomorrow, we can still stop him.  _ Emma had pressed her forehead to her door and heard the words  _ you said, you promised!  _ It’d taken the whole night to earn Lucy’s forgiveness. Get her faith back.

By the end of the night Emma had unlocked the metal gate to their building. A sob had crawled up her throat because  _ goddammit, goddammit.  _ And Regina had run her fingers on the back of her neck. Asked her to stay with her. Not to go across the hall. So Emma had. Held onto her under warm sheets and not slept. Thinking of sundown. 

“Is this good?” Lucy asks Regina now. She holds up a bowl of freshly grated panela.

“Yes mi vida, that’s enough.” She replies thumbing the pages of Henry’s book. 

The words he wrote had formed images of the ingredients for the antidote. Ingredients of this muddled world. Cinnamon, dark chocolate and cane sugar. Magic Emma doesn’t quite understand but seems to be second nature to Regina. Stars and roots are all the same.

She watches Regina place everything into separate bowls and salt the water that is meant to come to a boil. In another covered pot lies the poison in its pure form. A harmless looking shade of red. Ingredients have to hit the water the second the Sun sets, poured into the red as they stir and and chant a spell. 

Seven forty-four. Emma checks the time as the sky changes color. Less than an hour before she is meant to drive her son to the airport. Three minutes before dusk. She moves closer to the stove and adjusts a mask over her face. Does the same the same for Lucy, pinches tight over the bridge of her nose.

“Gran!” Lucy swats her hand away. “It’s hard to breathe in this thing.”

“This is no joke, kid.” She laughs as she fixes her goggles. “Gotta make sure nothing comes through.”

Two minutes. The faintest of pinks becomes blue.

“Listen to your grandmother, Sara Lucia,” Regina tells her, turning the flame higher on the poison. “If you’re every bit as sensitive as her or as your father we’ll be in trouble.” 

One minute. Pale, pale blue.

“OK. OK.” Lucy exhales through her mask and takes both their hands. “Let’s do this.” 

Magic. Magic she can barely wrap her head around. But she feels it at the tip of her fingers. Burst like sparks where her hand connects with Lucy’s. When she looks at Regina, with her hair held back by a scarf. 

It’s how dusk arrives. And the streetlights outside turn yellow. With her free hand Regina grabs the cinnamon bark and carefully drops it into the water.

“Cinnamon, for the warmth of the love he has forgotten.” They all say the words have given them. Emma can’t be sure what is the language that comes out of her mouth.

It’s so clear, her memories. That first kick Emma had felt against her belly. That high school recital when they had sat at the front row and watched Henry mess up his notes but smile through it. Those moments when she and Regina had him in their arms. Birthday candles and trips outside Storybrooke.

Emma reaches for the shaved dark chocolate and stirs into the bubbling cinnamon water. 

“The darkest of chocolates, for the bitterness that plagues us now.” The spell rolls around in her tongue, takes strength from her chest. And Emma would give it all.

Henry's eyes come to mind. Red-rimmed and trying to be hard. Hands in his pockets as he watches Jacinda walk away. Broken smile when he speaks to Lucy. Regina holding herself back from reaching his hand, Emma watching her words. Because he doesn’t remember, doesn’t remember that they belong to him. 

Lucy breaks their chain to add the panela only to quickly return to squeeze their hands as she says the words. 

“Dulce de rapadura, for the sweetness of the days to come.”

This. This is asking for all her strength. To believe in the future again. Not a happy ending, because there shouldn’t be an end. Emma has to think of the broken curse and recognition in Henry’s eyes. Mismatched chairs and tables. A place too small for all of them. Lucy’s grin and Regina’s proud smile. She has to try, try. Try to believe.

Regina pours the bubbling mixture into the red of the other pot, keeping the chanting constant. Emma watches her step back and gasps when she takes her hand too. A circle in front of the fire of the stove. They keep chanting until the red turns green.The scent and vapors slide through the fabric of her mask.So strong in their warmth. Emma can feel the cinnamon, chocolate and sugar cane fending off the poisonous fumes. It’s going to work, it’s going to work. The belief is so loud in her mind, hums down to her muscles and bones.

Emma removes her mask and her goggles and takes a deep breath. Her chest swells and her limbs run hot. Regina has an expectant look that plastic rims can’t hide.

“Gran?” Lucy has a hand on her mask, ready for permission.

“I’ll go get the bug,” Emma says, not helping the stretch of her smile. “And then we go get your dad.” 

* * *

Wallet. Keys. Toothbrush, deodorant and a change of clothes. Henry pats himself down and is relieved to find his phone already in his pocket. It’s all he needs. He tightens his shoelaces but doesn’t sit. There is no point in doing much else than stand around and wait for Clark. 

He blows air out his mouth. Something doesn’t feel right, something at the back of his mind. But it isn’t a new feeling. It’s been with him for as long as he could remember. It’s just the nerves of packing up and moving again. With a purpose this time but it remains the same. Same as it was when he was a kid. Leaving half-empty places behind and exchanging them for new half-empty places. The more things change.

Henry pulls out his phone and goes over  _ the _ email. Excited yet professional, Tom is looking forward to showing Henry around the office. Introducing him to everyone and seeing how he likes it there. In New York. Last time he worked in an office he quit within three months. Not being able to stand sitting behind a desk and keeping with strict schedules. But this should be different.

It should be good. And it’s not like. Not like he would be leaving much behind. Maybe all the hypotheticals with Jacinda and Lucy. Drinks at Roni’s and midnight chicken sandwiches with Clark. It was going to happen eventually, it always does. That’s what the thing inside his chest tells him. They’ll be better off without him. If they don’t know that they’ll learn it once he’s gone.

His phone pings with a message from Clark 

_ I’m outside. Ready when you are.  _

_ Coming.  _

  
  


He sighs and slips his phone back into his pocket. This is it. He swings his bag over his shoulder. Double checks his stove is off and locks the door behind him. Thinks of nothing as he climbs down the stairs. Nothing but his boarding time and his account balance. It’s the sight of Clark’s old beetle that throws him off. She steps out of the car and waves at him. And she looks,  _ looks _ like his old foster mom. Like Emma Swan. Sometimes Henry thinks he dreamed them up. Roni and Clark. It’s all stupid and childish. Feeling like he did at ten years old, wishing someone would keep him. Wishing he belonged to someone. 

“You got everything?” Clark asks as he approaches the door. 

“Yeah.” He smiles, that feeling still lodged in between his ribs. “Thanks for doing this.” 

“Anytime, kid.” She returns and Henry can’t mind that she calls him that. 

He slides into the front seat and immediately notices the two pairs of his eyes in the rearview mirror. And he can’t be mad. Not at Clark. Never at them.

“Hey Luce,” He swallows, trying to rid himself of the knot in his throat. “Hey Roni.”

“Forgot to mention the stow-aways on board.” Clark says with a smirk as she closes the door.

“You can’t be a stowaway if the driver knows you’re here.” Lucy points out, her brows knitting closer together. 

“And that said driver moved the seat so we could settle in.” 

“OK, OK.” She starts the car and throws him a look. “You see what I’m up against?” 

Henry laughs to stop himself. Stop himself from saying that he knows. He knows because it was like that whenever he’d been around Lucy and Jacinda. Dropping by Saturday nights with ice cream in a bag.

“Henry,” Lucy calls him. And it feels odd, so out of place all of the sudden. “We got you something.” 

She hands him a metal thermos. It’s warm to the touch and it makes him wish for a smile that doesn’t come.

“It’s hot chocolate,” Roni explains, her eyes set on him. “For good luck.” 

“Someone told us it was your favorite.” Clark says and he can’t really decipher the look on her face. 

It makes him hurt. And he doesn’t know why. Can’t begin to make sense of the pain. Like a dull knife making its way out of his skin.

“Uh, thanks.” For all his words he can’t find them now. Maybe an uber would have been better. 

It gets quiet after that. He doesn’t miss the silent exchanges between Roni and Clark. The worried looks Lucy gives him. Lucy leaning into Roni, the shadow that wasn’t in her eyes before. Henry tries to focus on the deep purple of the night and the sounds of the highway. He can’t stay, he can’t stay. He knows that. Opportunities like this one have been so rare in his life and he isn’t. He isn’t what they need. 

Henry breathes in bitter relief as they approach the drop-off section but Clark drives past it. She gives him a sheepish smile and a shrug of her shoulders.

“The kid wants one of those plush animals they sell at the gift shop.” 

Lucy opens her mouth as if to say something and then nods furiously. 

“Right, yeah.” Henry scratches at the growing hair on his chin and decides not to question it. 

Henry decides not to question very much. Not Lucy holding onto Roni like she hardly did before. Not Clark ruffling her hair and it’s all too. Too familiar in an impossible way. He tries to look ahead, practice what he’ll say before he goes through security. He looks at the departures screen for too long. His flight is already at the gate. 

There are families here. Small and big. Mothers, fathers, and everything in between and beyond. Henry can’t look at them too long, not without making this harder.

“I guess this is it.” He tells them, trying to keep his voice from breaking. 

“Yeah. Guess it is.” Clark looks at him and the tug inside him. It feels old. Like he’d buried it a long time ago.

Roni brings him for a quick hug. The feel of her hair on his cheeks that feels his too. Buried in the same place as Clark’s look. 

“Call us when you land?” She gives his arm one final squeeze and he nods in agreement without question. 

Lucy barrels into him next. Doesn’t say anything, won’t even look at him. Just pinches her eyes shut like she’s making a wish. And he wants so badly to give it to her. If he could, if he could only give her what she wants so desperately to be true. Instead he gives her a one-armed hug and makes no promises. It’s better this way. 

“Don’t forget to drink your hot chocolate.” Lucy says it like it's an order.

“I won’t.” 

He doesn’t know how to say good-bye without sounding stupid. Never has been one for them. It’s a nod he settles for as he goes up the escalators. He readjusts his bag and opens his ticket’s QR code. 

It still feels like a mistake. Henry takes a deep breath and thinks he can ignore it. Focus on the whites and greys of the airport. On the line of people ahead of him. All he had to do is get through. Then a night spent knocked out by dramamine. Henry just needs to stay in this line. 

“If you are carrying any aerosols, liquids, and gels now is the time to dispose of them.” A TSA agent announces as she points to the bins to the sides. “Nail clippers, scissors, swiss army knives if you got ‘em. Shoes off!” 

Shit. He’ll have to down the chocolate and burn his tongue. At least he can do that much for Lucy. Henry uncaps the thermos and takes the first sip. Bitter, warm, and sweet. It’s...it tastes like something from a memory. Like Friday afternoons, and winter-fire. Walks in the woods, the pedal under his boot. The lullaby he hasn’t forgotten. A hand folded in his. He can’t stop drinking it. Warmth runs wild through the whole of him, from the tip of his ears to the tips of his toes. As if he’d been empty this whole time. As if something had been missing. And it’s slowly coming loose inside his chest. His eyes water and the knot in his throat cuts itself free. An odd sense of relief and happiness fills him.

“What the hell was in this thing?” He laughs as he rubs his chest. 

“Sir, sir?” The TSA agent looks straight at him. “You’re holding up the line. Are you flying or not?”

If he gets through he’s gone. Off to New York and a new half-empty place. But something is blooming in his chest, brand new and delicate. He can’t bring himself to pluck it.

“I…” Henry smiles as he makes his decision. “I guess I’m not. Sorry.” 

Belonging, that new growth inside him. His feet might as well be sprouting roots. He can’t go. He can’t. It isn’t right. Henry couldn’t say how it is that he knows. Maybe he’s like a tree chasing sunlight. And now he has to chase it down those escalators and hope that it isn’t too late. 

* * *

As airports go this is like all the others Emma has seen. Top to bottom glass and overpriced everything. People saying their goodbyes and others falling as they catch a loved one in their arms. Regina tightens the lock she has on her fingers. She thought. They thought. They were sure. Emma felt it in the air. Breathed the cinnamon, the chocolate and the sweet and believed. But it’s the day Henry left Storybrooke all over again. But there were no kisses pressed to his forehead, no promises to write as soon as he could. Nothing to give him.

“We’ll follow him to New York,” Regina says as they watch Lucy move through the stuffed animals in the souvenir shop. “It’d hardly be the first time.” 

Emma’s lips twitch thinking of what that might look like. Knocking on his door, asking him to believe. Wanting to believe that this fight isn’t over. 

“He’ll be an easier sell than I was.” Her voice strains as she tries to push aside her doubts. “We’ll take the kid for good measure.” 

“Operation Tinman,” She can hear the tinge of sadness in Regina’s voice. “We’ll see it through. We always do.”

Lucy seems to settle for a penguin from the Woodland Zoo section and walks back to them. Her eyes are glassy and she hugs the penguin tightly against her chest. They keep asking too much of her. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

“Ready?” Emma asks quietly and gets a nod in response. 

“You don’t feel like taking another look?” Regina cups Lucy’s cheek. “We are in no rush.” 

Lucy shakes her head. And Emma gets it. She wants to sink into the bug’s backseat and let it all out. Be a kid who just lost her dad. For everything Emma is supposed to be, for all the power they hold between them they couldn’t do this. 

“Are you sure about that?” Comes a voice behind them. “I feel like an orca suits you better.”

Henry. Henry. Their son. Emma doesn’t have the words for it. To name what goes on inside her, the way her knees almost buckle. The electricity that it sets off between her and Regina’s skin. It’s like that memory that hadn’t been hers. When he cried out for the first time and she held him against her chest. It’s that night when they sailed away from Neverland. When he’d woken safe in their arms and Emma had  _ known _ it was how it was meant to be. 

Lucy’s eyes light up before they break and she drops the penguin. She races past them and jumps into her father’s arms. Henry sinks to the floor, eyes on them as he cradles the back of Lucy’s head. Surprised at his own gesture, like he hadn’t known he had it in him. 

“You stayed.” Emma breathes out. 

“I…” He begins as Lucy untangles herself from his arms and he rises. “I had a change of heart.” 

“You did?” Regina asks as she moves them closer to him. “Why?”

“Yeah,” His laugh ends up in a smile. “I don’t know, I just got this feeling. Like I never felt before. I just...I knew I couldn’t go through with it. It’s hard to explain.” 

It’s so clear. So clear that this is their Henry. Healed and complete. His face is practically shining as he speaks. Bright, bright eyes. The shadow gone from them. They have their son back. Ivy couldn’t take him from them.

“Was it because of the chocolate?” Lucy dares to ask, her hand still in his.

Henry laughs and scratches the back of his head.

“Why? Was it a magic potion?”

“Maybe.” 

It’s Emma’s turn to laugh and give Lucy a look. It earns her a Mills eye roll in reply and a squeeze to her wrist from Regina. It’s how it’s supposed to be.

“Why don’t we go pay for these?” Regina says picking up the discarded penguin and taking the orca from Lucy’s grasp.

“Let me.” Henry says, practically beaming. “Then we can go home.” 

Home. Home. He wants to go home. The word rings through Emma until she gets an idea. And it feels, it feels like a blossom growing out of her ribcage. Growing and growing until its vines reach her cheeks. Until Emma can feel the smile on them.

* * *

Lucy remembers nights at their old house. They had been hot and her mom had always made sure she bathed before bed. Scrubbed her feet clean. And her dad. Her dad had looked a lot like he did now. She doesn’t know what to do with herself. Other than to think of the things she’ll tell him. Lucy can’t wait to say how gran slid through all that scrap to get to her. How Lucy had known who she was right away. Tell him that abue has her memories, that she can still sing. How she can still get the stars to talk to her.

Abue slides an arm around her shoulders. She knows, abue always knows. Just like gran does too. Hearing dad laugh and talk about nothing makes it feel like before. Like before the curse. When her family would gather outside. Sit on those wooden rocking chairs and let the breeze try and cool them off. Her Tia would quietly ask abue for advice about things Lucy hardly understood. Grain, taxes. Her mom would ask that they save that type of talk for council rooms and her dad would begin a story. Never about gran and the land without magic. Maybe it hurt too much.

But now, now that doesn’t matter. They’re together. And her dad can tell all the stories he wants. They won’t hurt anymore. 

“We’re not going back to my place?” Her dad says, raising an eyebrow like abue does. 

“Nah, not yet.” Gran looks so pleased with herself. “There’s somewhere we need to be.” 

“I thought we agreed you weren’t cool and mysterious.” 

“You got that right.” Abue says in a low voice.

“Hey!” 

“ _ Please _ , you’re everything but.” 

Her dad snorts out a laugh as gran pretends to be offended by abue’s words. And she can’t wait, can’t wait until they get to do this every day. Lucy’s heart almost jumps out of her throat when she realizes where gran is taking them. The community center. Where her mom and Tia are working the fundraiser. It could happen tonight. True Love’s Kiss and break the curse. 

“Come on, come on.” She leans against gran’s seat and begs to be let out. 

“Alright, alright.” Her gran laughs while her abue fixes with her a look she gave her when baking.  _ Patience, Sara Lucia.  _

Lucy jumps in place waiting for her dad to come around. She takes his hand as soon as she can and pulls him inside.

“Woah, woah Luce. Careful.” He readjusts his grasp and smiles.

It’s how she knows. As soon as he sees her mom he’ll remember they’re true loves. Mom will too, even without the curse breaking just yet. 

Lucy guides him until they find the gym. Packed with people sitting at the bleachers on either side. Her mom is standing next to her Tia in the middle of the court. Paper folded in her hand as she watches the room. Lucy waves so that she catches sight of her. Her mom smiles so wide and then her eyes land on dad. She can tell. Because she hesitates but then waves at him. She looks up to see the look on his face. And it’s just like she thought it would be. Dad grins like he did all the times he asked her to dance.

“We’d like to thank you all for coming out tonight,” Tia speaks into the microphone. “It is always good to remember that we’re only as strong as each other. And if tonight proves anything, it’s that we’re the strongest we’ve ever been.” 

The crowd cheers and claps. Everyone is here. Mrs Thompson and her kids, Mr. Mansour, clapping the hardest. Mrs. Omar at the front. People whose names Lucy gets all mixed up because of Concordia. Everyone always shows up when Tia has something to say.

“Tonight feels like a victory but we shouldn’t lower our defenses,” She continues and Lucy remembers having said all this before. “We should always strive to keep Hyperion Heights this alive.” 

Somebody whoops in the back of the room and there is more clapping. Tia is still the queen of this place. Even if she doesn’t know it. Still makes everyone feel like everything will be alright. No matter what. Her abue must be so proud. 

Lucy scans the room for her and gran. It’s hard with all the neighborhood crammed into the gym like this. She finds them in a corner, watching it all. Her abue leaning into her gran, her head practically tucked under the nook of her neck. Gran’s arm wrapped around her middle. Abue closes her eyes for a second when it looks like gran whispered something. There is a laugh. Has her abue scrunching up her nose

They’re worse than mom and dad, Lucy decides. 

“Come on, I think Tilly needs some help at the stand.” Her dad says as the crowd begins to stand up and a line begins to grow.

This is something he would have done in Concordia too. Put on an apron and helped any way he could. Tilly,  _ Alice, _ looks relieved to see them. Today is red for her and her clothes Lucy thinks it fits. Happy, happy. Like tonight.

“Oh, you two are heaven-sent.” She says as she makes room for her dad to work the cashbox. “Sabine and Jacinda grossly underestimated the sales for tonight.” 

Lucy gets to stand with the free sample platter. She pops one of Tia’s beignets bites into her mouth. 

“Mi nina, those are not for you.” Mom presses a kiss to the top of her head when she spots her. “You got him to stay, I see.” 

“Maybe I helped a little.” Lucy wipes the sugar away from her mouth.

“I got to ask Roni what you get up to when she’s watching you.” She tucks Lucy’s hair behind her ear. “Quien sabe que haces tu para convencerla.” 

“Me?” She smiles her widest smile. Her mom doesn’t buy it. 

“Mhmm. Yes, you.” 

She looks over Lucy’s shoulder and it’s obvious she is making eyes at dad. 

“ _ Mom. _ ” Lucy clears her throat and nods her head towards the stand. 

“But…”

“ _ Mom. _ ” 

She laughs in a way Lucy’s never seen before. Like those middle schoolers who can’t wait for the boys to notice them. Lucy watches her try and fix her hair and walk over to the stand. Watches her run a hand over his arm and work side by side. Laugh and make excuses to touch hands.

Maybe  _ they _ are worse than gran and abue. 

After a while Alice removes her apron and waves her mom and dad goodbye. She comes over and takes the last beignet bite from the tray.

“Hey, I was saving that!”

Alice winks at her and says “Think of it as payment.”

“For what?”

With her chin she points towards her mom and dad. She is pulling his sleeve and has that dorky smile that makes him look like gran. Mom shakes her head and stands on the tips of her toes.

Like she did every morning after breakfast. Stretches her neck and kisses him. On the lips. He smiles and runs a thumb on her cheek.

And.

Nothing. Nothing changes. People keep coming and going. Talking, smaller kids playing around her. Nothing. No pulse, no rainbow to signal that the curse has been broken. But it can’t be. True love is supposed to break the curse. They were meant to beat it. That is how things are supposed to go. Just like gran kissed dad on that hospital bed. When abue broke the curse pressing her lips to his forehead. Just like dad’s book said.

Unless. Unless they were wrong. Maybe out here they aren’t true loves. That means the curse will never break. And they will never know. Never know that they’re supposed to be together. Supposed to be a family. Abue and gran will stay Roni and Clark to them. Her dad won’t ever know he belongs to her. Tia will never be queen again. Mom will always think she is only Jacinda Vidrio, not Ella of Concordia.

No. No. No.

Lucy drops her tray and runs. Pushes doors open until she’s out in the night and runs towards the only place that makes sense. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shocked pikachu face*


	9. Cocoa Butter

The night air is harsh on her skin. A little more wind and Emma’s lips peel. It’s the beginning of winter and it might not have mattered a year ago. A year ago when her son had been seventeen. And a different hand had been locked with hers. Coarse and possessive. And she had wanted to want it. To talk herself into happiness. _God_ , it makes her throat dry and her eyes wet. To think. To think how different things are now. How Henry’s heart went from poisoned to healed. How she can see it now, the orbit of their lives together. How she wouldn’t trade the feel of Regina’s soft, naked skin in her palm. Gentle and sure.

“What a night, huh?” Emma breathes out.

“A memorable one,” Regina agrees, lips close to a smile. “Let’s not do it again.” 

She laughs and searches her pocket for her keys. 

“You say that and then we’ll be vanquishing a chernabog next week,” Emma unlocks the metal gate. “There’s always a damn monster when a curse breaks.” 

“Are you willing to take that bet, Miss Swan?” Regina says going ahead and looking at her through darkened eyes. 

She has one foot inside, fingers reaching for Regina again when something crashes against her side. Emma looks down and finds Lucy wrapping her arms around her waist. Burying her face in her ribs and sobbing. 

“Lucy? Lucy, what’s wrong?” She crouches down and brushes the hair from her face. 

“Mi vida…” Regina begins as she places a hand on her chest. Lucy only shakes her head in response. “Breathe, Sara Lucia. In and out.” 

Emma gets this is a ritual of theirs. Maybe Lucy crawled into Regina’s bed after a bad dream. She’s crying like she’s still stuck in one. 

“It didn’t...it didn’t work.” She croaks out. 

“What didn’t work, kid?”

“True love’s kiss.” Lucy throws her arms around Emma’s neck. “Mom and dad...they...it didn’t work, gran. Why didn’t it work?” 

“Shh, it’s OK.” She says more naturally than it feels. As if her assumptions weren’t breaking all over again. “It’s OK.” 

Lucy tightens her grip on her neck and lets out another cry.

“Let’s go upstairs.” Regina says with a touch to Emma’s shoulder. 

Her eyes are soft but inscrutable beyond that. It doesn’t occur to Emma to do anything but follow. Lead Lucy up the stairs and try to make sense of tonight. The kiss, it should have been it. It’s how these things are meant to go. Prince and Princess reunited. Straight out of a storybook.

Lucy slips from her grasp when Regina opens her door. She plops on her couch like an old habit and brings her knees up to her chest. Emma thinks of nothing but the hot chocolate Regina keeps in her cupboard and sets out to make some. It might not cure a poisoned heart but it’s always been good enough. Cinnamon sprinkled over it. 

“Yes, we have her.” Regina says softly into the phone. “No, not right away. She just needs some time. I’ll let you know.” 

“Jacinda?”

She nods and takes a deep breath. “What a night.” 

Regina gives her arm a squeeze before she joins Lucy on the couch. The microwave beeps and Emma realizes the mug is filled to the brim. Maybe she’ll burn her fingers on the way to the couch but it doesn’t matter. Anything to make this better. As the powdered mixture dissolves into the hot milk she hears a murmur of Regina’s voice. Emma scorches her tongue drinking the excess that will sure spill over and finds Lucy with her head on Regina’s lap.

“No room for your gran?” It’s worth trying out for a laugh.

Lucy smiles weakly and lifts her feet so she can slide in. Emma unlaces her shoes and keeps her feet on her lap. 

The mug steams on the coffee table and they sit silently. Passing cars and their quiet breathing is all they have. Regina rakes her fingers through Lucy’s hair and Emma tries to make sense of her own thoughts. Nothing has gone according to plan in Hyperion Heights. Part of her wishes she could curl up against Lucy right now. And say it isn’t fair.

“I just want my dad back.” She says after a while. “I’m so tired, abue.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Regina looks to Emma and then sighs. “It’s harder than we thought it would be. And you’ve done more than we should have asked.” 

Words aren’t coming to her so easily. Emma doesn’t know what it is she could offer Lucy, if there is anything she could say to make it all better. 

“His heart is healed, he’s so close to being dad again,” Lucy’s voice cuts again and her breathing grows shallow. “Are...are mom and dad not true love? Are they…”

“Hey, hey, kid,” Emma rubs a circle on her ankle. “Listen, there is no way your mom and dad aren’t true love. He gets that dorky smile on his face whenever he sets eyes on her.” 

Lucy blows air through her nose and shakes her head against Regina.

“I’m serious, have you seen how red his ears get when he’s talking about her?” She thinks of them dancing on the street. And the way Henry almost stammers when he can’t say what he means. “Do you know many beignets he eats just so he can stop by and talk to your mom?”

There’s a giggle and a kick when Emma tickles the bottom of her feet and she breathes in relief. 

“But if they’re true love shouldn’t they have broken the curse?”

Emma is stumped for an answer. And she hasn’t searched for explanations since that night at the pier when she kissed Regina. When her lips had tasted of mint and Emma had wanted more than anything to be the answer. 

“Do you remember the story of Snow and Charming, carino?” Regina asks her quietly. 

“Gran’s parents?” Lucy looks at Emma over her shoulder. “You cursed them to live in Storybrooke to take away their happy ending.”

“And that proved impossible to do,” Regina says almost fondly. “And it’s their true love that is the source of Emma’s magic.” 

Her heart suddenly skips a beat here and there. Talk of true love always made her nervous. Always left her wanting. Knowing she was the product of it and couldn’t split her heart when she had wanted to pretend. 

“In fact, their love was so true that not even my magic could keep them apart. And believe me, I tried.” Regina stills her hand in Lucy’s hair. “But tell me, did _they_ break my curse?” 

Regina’s eyes find Emma’s and don’t let go. Not until all the air has left Emma’s chest, until she feels a tremor going down her hands. Her lips taste mint again.

“No, they didn’t,” Lucy sits up and looks between. “But why?”

“Curses are willful things,” Regina has Emma in her gaze. Magnetic. “Not even the caster understands what will break it. And when I stretched out my magic all it knew was to keep your father safe. It must have done everything to make that happen.”

“So, this curse is stronger?” 

“In a way.” Regina runs a thumb down Lucy’s cheeks until she coaxes a smile from her. “But it doesn’t mean it’s unbeatable.” 

Emma clears her throat and tries to find her voice again. 

“And the hard part is over,” She leans closer to them. “With his heart all fixed up it’s only a matter of time. It could be tomorrow or the day after that. Or the day after that one.” 

As if to prove a point Regina presses her lips against Lucy’s forehead. She chuckles and leans back against Regina’s side.

“See? True love doesn’t need proof.”

“OK, OK. I get it..”

Her hands still shake when Emma stretches her arm behind the couch. The tips of her fingers barely brush Regina’s. Just enough to bring her eyes back to her. A grin is her reward. They don’t move, not even when Lucy drinks her chocolate lukewarm. Not when her eyes begin to droop watching an old re-run on TV. They don’t move until she is asleep and her face is pressed against Henry’s shoulder.

“Thanks for all this,” Jacinda kisses Regina’s cheek, holding Lucy’s shoes in one hand. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“What are we here for?” Regina says, smiling up at Henry. 

“See you tomorrow at Roni’s?” He asks.

“Yeah, kid.” Emma says with a laugh. “I’ll get the first round.” 

He gives them an awkward wave goodbye and she closes the door. Lies against it and catches Regina in her sight. Looking like Emma never imagined, curled hair and sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Dark eyes clinging to hers, making it so hard to breathe evenly. Emma still shakes, struggles to form one coherent thought. _Goddammit._

“I…you” Emma begins, her hand scratching the back of her head.

Before she can decide what she meant to say Regina closes the space between. Takes her face between her hands and kisses her. Kisses her against the door, hands travelling down to her neck. Warm, she’s so warm. Enough to kindle a spark on her lips. 

“Just so we’re clear,” Regina tells her with a smirk. “I love you.” 

Her chest feels like it might break open, rib by rib. Emma racks her brain searching for the right thing to say. Right way to say it. To not ruin this moment. She exhales. Once. Twice, maybe.

“Why,” Emma runs fingers through Regina’s curls. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

Regina kisses her again. With a smile that feels feather light on her.

“You wouldn’t have believed me,” She says simply. Like she is used to this kind of thing with Emma. “I had to show you.” 

_You were cursed, we can forget about it._ And she hadn’t been able to decipher the look on Regina’s face. With her eyes wide open and Emma hadn’t been able to see. The careful hands on her skin. Sleeping under a multi-colored blanket. Breakfast and near frozen drops of water in her hair. A hand on her knee, always reaching for her in some way. 

Emma nods and decides there is no wrong way to say it. 

“I love you.”

She pulls her flush against her, lips searching Regina’s collarbone. Kiss their way up her neck, her jaw. Until they find Regina’s again. Find them eager and open for them. It’s like that night at the pier, when her heart had been in her throat and she could think of nothing but Regina. Couldn’t do anything but go crazy with the feel of her. Her body is running wild now, working on an instinct she didn’t know she had. Knowing only _more, more_ and obeying it. Emma slides a leg between Regina’s and feels the roughness of her jeans on it. She cups her ass and lifts her.

“Oh thank _fuck_.” Regina says, the dark in her eyes wider. 

Emma laughs as she stumbles her way to the bed. And lands on top of Regina, knees on either side of her. 

“And here I thought you’d been so patient with me.” Her hair falls over her shoulders and she can’t believe it. Can’t believe the road they took getting here. 

“You’ll be the death of me, you idiot.” She says propping herself up on her elbows. “It’s been twenty-five years.”

“Twenty-five?” She could keep laughing if she understood less. Emma can’t even bring herself to breathe.

It might have been some seven years since Emma found her way to Regina. But it’s been two and a half decades for Regina with all those years in Concordia. Twenty-five years since the first night when they’d been nothing but strangers.

“If you haven’t noticed I have trouble letting go,” Her touch eases the crease between her eyes. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way, Emma.” 

“Regina…” She chokes out, her arms almost caving. 

Her hand goes under Emma’s shirt, steadies her. Right at the hip, where she is growing hotter and hotter. Finds the scar at her side and moves so that she kisses it. She inches Emma’s shirt higher and higher as she works her way up. Until they’re facing each other and Emma feels the coolness of the night on the heat of her skin. That familiar fire burns through her, from the bottom of her belly up to her cheeks. Emma lets it move, lets it take Regina’s shirt and toss it aside. Make her gasp at the black underneath. Lace that does little to hide the delicate brown of the nipples cradled in it. Regina hums under her touch, her back arches underneath her fingertips.

“Jesus, fuck,” Emma whispers before letting herself disappear into Regina.

Let her tongue explore, take her. Surround her. Tenderly and between her teeth. Until she feels the lace grow wet and she can hear the pounding of Regina’s heart. Emma burns with awareness of how easily they fit together, how their bodies move in a rhythm she doesn’t understand. It’s like a type of magic. That runs through their blood and makes Emma wonder why is it that they ever looked at anyone else. When nothing, nothing compares to this. 

To jeans being kicked off and cotton sheets. To the sweat building up in the low of their backs and the sounds vibrating out of them. Nimble fingers and the yellow of the streetlight falling on them. Skin on skin after so, so long. Emma kisses an eager trial down Regina’s body until she is almost underneath her. 

“ _Emma.”_ Regina moans out her name.

“Let me show you.” Emma tells her, securing a hand at the end of her thigh. “Please, let me show you.” 

Regina grabs a fistful of her hair and she takes it as permission. Emma sucks a spot in her thigh and feels Regina quiver under her mouth. She could take her time, take her time if it weren’t for the twenty five years. Emma opens her eyes and gazes up at her. Maybe it wasn’t written like this, maybe it hadn’t been meant to be like this all those years ago. When they decided Regina should be queen and that Emma would take the crown off her head. She could never. Not when it makes Regina glow like this. Not when Emma is kneeling under her, when she takes her in her mouth. Circles her with her tongue, kisses her swollen. Kisses her wet. So wet.

And she’s so beautiful. Emma could never close her eyes. Regina's hair is a mess of loose curls, evidence of where her fingers have been. Flushed down to her chest, heaving to her same beat. Parted lips and brown eyes that hold Emma in place. Her hips rock desperately against her lips. 

“Stay with me, stay with me.” She whispers against her center. 

“Al.. _always.”_ Regina hisses like she’s rising up to a challenge.

That fire guides Emma deeper and deeper until she feels Regina’s heat in her tongue. Tastes the sweetness in between the folds of her. Over and over again until she feels it come like a spark. Grows and grows until it bursts out of both of them. Until Regina’s knees give and she falls back onto her pillows. 

“Come here.” She says gruffly, motioning with her finger.

Emma climbs up the bed with a numbness building up in her legs. Kisses Regina’s naked breast before she settles in a pillow next to her. Regina smiles at her like she’s the answer. The one Emma wishes she could be. It’s gentle the way she takes Emma’s hand and presses a careful kiss to its wrist. A careful road back to Emma’s lips. Her teeth just graze Emma’s lips, enough. Enough to ask if she’s allowed. As if Emma could ever deny her anything.

As if there would ever be a time when Emma didn’t want to sink into her. 

* * *

The water is cooling around them. Pale and almost transparent. Lavender dripping off their skin and making Emma’s eyes close. Maybe it was past two when Regina had mumbled something about a bath against her shoulder. And Emma had kissed her stomach before draping her in cotton sheets. She has her head against Regina’s shoulder, hair tied into a bun. Regina has one hand running circles on her breast and another on her navel. Already has her body memorized. Every mole, every scar. Emma couldn’t have imagined, couldn’t have known what it would feel like. To not have to wonder anymore what it is like to be loved by Regina, to be part of that immensity. To feel so bare in her arms, against her skin. And have it mean safety. That place away from the world. 

“There was this hot spring near some ruins in Concordia,” Regina kisses her neck and readjusts herself underneath Emma. “You would have loved it.” 

“Hmm, really?” Her own voice sounds distant. 

“Green leaves all around and black stones that came out of the water. Monkeys that would steal your clothes when you weren’t looking.” She whispers by the shell of her ear. “You would have yelled after them and fought them off.” 

“Running with my butt out in the open,” Emma peels one eye open to look back at Regina. “And you would have been watching from the water.” 

“Exactly.” 

“How often did you think about my naked butt?” The words almost slur out of her and she gets a pinch to a cheek as answer.

“Oh, that’s a _lot_.” She snorts and grabs Regina’s hand. “Tell me about all the other times.” 

“That I thought about you?” Her chest rises and falls against Emma’s back. “Too many to count.” 

“Just one then.” 

Regina rests against her temple, Emma feels her taking a breath. Breathing her in, maybe. And she can’t believe. That they’re here, smelling of lavender and soap.

“The house in Concordia was small,” It vibrates out of her. “But I had my own bathroom, Henry insisted.”

“Bet he did. Kid’s a shower hog.” 

Regina huffs as if to protest her interruption and Emma gives their fingers a squeeze. 

“It had a large bathtub right in the middle, a skylight above it. And there was one night. I can’t remember what set me off. But my head throbbed, I could hardly stand the pain behind my eyes. And I thought of you.” 

“Uuh..that’s not really what I meant.” She opens her eyes and sits up right. 

There is a laugh that is only just exasperated and then Regina follows her and rests her chin on Emma’s shoulder.

“Let me finish.“ Regina says as she hugs her middle. “I thought that if you were there and found me steaming in the dark like that...I thought that you would have come into the tub with me. Clothes and all. You would have gotten water all over the floor.”

It would have hurt before tonight. To think of their what ifs of a life together in Concordia. Of everything she missed. 

“Sounds like me,” Her eyes close again. “You would have pretended to be pissed. Called me an idiot.”

“Would have served you right, too.” Regina’s hands travel down, down. “But I would have loved you for it. Pulled you closer by the collar of your shirt.” 

“Yeah?” Emma misses a breath as her knees hit the white porcelain of the tub. “And gone with the tried and true method to get rid of stress?” 

“Mhmm.” 

Emma feels water pool under them, making waves with the tide of their joined hands. _Fuck,_ she will never have a coherent thought again. Become one with the water, with their skin wrinkling with it. Stay here until the morning because they couldn’t bring themselves to stop. Keep their hands off each other. 

* * *

Her body is heavy. The heaviest it’s ever been. Sore throat and back. Neck that is verging on a muscle spasm. Emma knows how fortunate it is, to feel so raw. To lie face down in a bed that smells of them. Of Regina’s soap and the cold of winter.

“Turn over.” Regina tells her, her voice just as heavy as Emma’s body.

“Mhmm no. Sleep.”

“Your skin is dry from the water. You can’t go to bed like this.” She slaps something cool on her lower back that sends a jolt through her.

“Evil.” Emma turns her head so she can glare at Regina.

Regina rolls her eyes and warms the lotion with her hands. Smooths it out on her back, massages it onto her skin. It smells sweet and warm, like coming home when dessert is in the oven. A thumb presses down on that spot between her shoulders, works that crick in her neck. 

“Mmmm, that’s good.” She groans out in pleasure.

“Now will you listen to me?” 

It’s the biggest effort, to push herself up and roll over. But it’s worth it. To see Regina with sleep in her eyes. Wearing nothing, not minding the way their bodies fold. The soft spots. Like they’ve done this a thousand times. Like an old habit of theirs. Emma smiles up at her and presses a lazy kiss on her knee. Regina sighs and rubs cream on her arms. Down to her fingers and Emma is stupid. Stupid with the idea of her. That this is what love was supposed to feel like all along. A firm and soft touch on her skin, one that makes sure she gets what she needs. What should have been hers for so long. Her throat goes dry when Regina reaches her breast. And she’s careful. So careful with her.

“Your turn,” Emma tells her, stilling her hand. “It’s only fair.” 

After a final brush of her knuckles to her jaw Regina hands her a small jar. Emma tries to sit up but only half manages. Lies on her side and works her hands on Regina’s hips. Up to her ribs, to that newly discovered birthmark. To feel her breathing, warm under her touch. That feels like the wish made on a solitary candle. She couldn’t have known. That it would be so much more. That it would fill her up like this. 

“This feels amazing,” Regina says, with a dazed expression on her face.

“Must be this stuff,” She laughs and tastes the sweetness off Regina’s fingers. “What is it?”

“Cocoa butter.” 

“Hmmm.” It’s so easy to keep going, to let her hands roam across Regina’s body. 

“For best results this should be done every night.” She throws her head back, black curls contrasting with the white cotton of the pillows. 

That they could always be here. Always come back to this place. Where the air is sweet and mixes in with their breath. It’s everything. Everything she didn’t know how to wish for.

“Really?” Emma tries to paint a circle on her chest. “Every night?”

“It says so on the jar.” Regina’s eyes find her before drifting close. 

“Does the jar also say I should give up the place across the hall?” It doesn’t take a lot of effort to smile.

“I believe it does.” A small laugh wants to escape Regina’s chest but it never quite does. 

“Can’t really argue with that.” Emma comes to lie her head on Regina’s stomach. Settle into her warmth. “Kinda never want to move from this spot.” 

“That makes two of us, querida.” 

Rain hits the windows as the neighborhood slowly wakes up. Early and before dawn. Emma closes her eyes and drapes her arm over Regina.

* * *

For a while, since that clocktower started running in Storybrooke, it seemed like time was running out. Break the curse, and the next one. Have darkness swallow her and run to the underworld. Defeat a hooded figure and get a ring on her finger. Quick, quick. Before it’s too late. Before Emma failed to keep her promises of happy endings. It’s barely moving now, barely keeping up with the seconds on the clock. Because it’s waking up at noon, legs tangled with Regina’s. Rolling out of bed and getting the coffee running. Even if it’s too late. Cracking eggs into a bowl. Whisking them until they were right and folding them over the heat. Batter sizzling in a pan and syrup on her lips. Regina in a cotton robe, breathing in her coffee before taking a sip. 

Brushing their teeth and going back to bed because they can. Start with their fingers,with their lips around them. Regina counting the freckles on her shoulders. The ones she got at sixteen. Emma getting her to mutter in all the languages she knows. Her tongue rolling out curses as her knuckles turned from grasping the sheets. It’s Emma sliding off the bed at the worst moment and Regina laughing. Laughing and kissing the pain away. A warm spray of water on their backs and saying something about how they’re supposed to get clean. Swollen lips and not getting dressed past their underwear. While the Sun sets again. 

Emma loves feeling the roundness of her. The delicate fabric running around it, the one that is doing nothing to cover her ass. Nothing in between her touch and firmness of her muscle. She might melt onto Regina’s skin, knowing that Emma gets to belong to her.

“God,” Emma whispers as she runs a finger under the lace.”I love this on you.” 

“I know,” The dark in her eyes goes so deep. So deep against the colors of the kitchen, against the lights that are barely there. “It’s why I picked it.” 

“How…?” There must be a dumbstruck look on her face because Regina shakes her head and thumbs Emma’s lower lip.

“I’ve noticed you staring, darling. You haven’t been discreet about it.” 

“Jeans really work for you, what am I supposed to do?” Emma hands go to her hips and lift her onto the counter. 

It’s something else to hear Regina gasp in surprise, laugh in delight. To know Emma can do that, can get her to look like that. Legs swinging and laugh lines. Around her lips and her eyes. Emma runs her hand up and down her calf. Body already quaking, feeling the chills on her skin. 

“We’ll make a mess.” She says, lips moving to the side. Anticipating what it is Emma wants. 

“I’ll clean it up.” Emma promises before Regina kisses. 

Kisses her slowly. Her tongue dances on the roof of her mouth. Teeth knowing when to pull, shy of biting. It makes her wonder how she ever survived without Regina, without feeling her grip on her arms. Feeling the contours of them, where they harden to keep them upright. Regina wraps her leg around Emma’s waist, presses down to bring her closer. Yeah, yeah. It’ll be a mess, the metal already clinking behind them. 

And then the buzzer cuts through the air. Regina tears her lips from hers making her whine at the loss.

“That would be the food.” Regina takes Emma’s hair and curls it to one side. 

“I’m not hungry.” It’s then that her gut decides to betray her.

“ _You_ are not hungry?” She jabs a finger on her chest. “Your stomach practically growled at me.” 

“Only for you.” Emma tells her, itching to kiss her again. 

“Ugh, you are so corny.” Her leg untangles itself from her waist and pushes Emma back. Regina eases herself off the counter.

“Where are you going?”

“To wash up,” She snaps the elastic of Emma’s boyshorts. “Put some clothes on. The delivery guy only takes cash tips. There is some change in the green coffee tin if you need it.” 

“ _Fine.”_ Emma sinks her teeth into her lip as her eyes stay on the dip of Regina’s back as she walks away. 

It’s a pair of sweatpants and the Springsteen shirt out of the closet Emma takes and heads over to buzz the guy up. She takes a moment to clean. Half-empty water glasses into the sink, straighten up the table. Fold the blanket over the couch. Clothes in the hamper. Her stomach flutters when it hits her. Emma lives here now. This is theirs. And it happened quickly and without question.

A knock on the door and her stomach twists with actual hunger. She fishes forty dollars out of her wallet and heads to the door. It’s not who she expects looking back at her. No food in hand, just an oversized umbrella. 

“Oh, there you are.” He says, chest deflating in relief.

“Henry?” Before Emma can think of blocking the door he is moving inside. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah. I was just a little worried because Roni hasn’t opened the bar yet,” He says, scanning the apartment. “And you weren’t answering any of my messages.”

_Shit._ It slipped her mind. First round was on her, Emma pinches the bridge of her nose. Time only stands still inside these walls. And it’s been so easy to forget about Hyperion Heights for a while. That it never stops for anyone.

“Did you have enough for the tip?” Regina’s voice calls out as the bathroom door closes. 

“It wasn’t...uh, don’t come…out.” She stutters, her neck growing hotter. Up to the tip of her ears. 

Then it happens. All the color is drained from Henry’s face as Regina stands there in her open robe. Grey lingerie on full display.

“Oh my God.” Henry shields his eyes and turns around so that he faces a wall.

“Oh my God.” Regina rushes to cover herself and disappears back into the bathroom. 

“So uuh...you guys are OK?” He is still pale as a sheet. The fright of his life.

“Yeah, yeah. We’re good.” Emma speaks into her hands. “How about a raincheck?”

“Yeah, raincheck. Raincheck is great,” Henry doesn’t look at her and practically bolts towards the door. “Uuuh tomorrow. I’ll see you tomorrow..”

The door slams closed and Emma heads towards the bathroom. Scratching her neck and not being able to help laughing as Regina emerges. Death grip on her robe.

“He’s gone, you can relax.”

“I can’t believe this,” Regina covers her eyes with the backside of her hand. “I’ve never been so mortified in my life.”

“Hey, I was about his age when I walked in on my parents too,” Emma shrugs. “So he’ll be scarred for life. No big deal.”

“This isn’t funny, Emma!” It comes with a slap to her arm. 

“It’s a little funny.” She kisses Regina’s cheek as the buzzer rings for the second time. “Now, _that_ has to be the food.” 

Regina rolls her eyes and slaps her arm again.

Old habits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew that took them a while! I'd love to hear what you think!


	10. The Anarchist's Duty

It’s the first snow of the season. It came in the middle of the day and caught them with groceries in their arms. Made them look for thicker scarves and gloves. Emma can’t remember when it was that she was last happy to see snow. To see the seasons change and not feel burdened. Too long that she almost hadn’t recognized the feeling, bubbling away in her chest. She’d known when Regina had kissed her as she headed out to the sidewalk. 

Emma had been too happy to strap on her boots and shovel away at the snow. Make small mounds against the brick. Clear a path all around the bar. Salt the concrete so that no one slips. Gripping the shovel and hearing the snow crunch underneath her feet she thinks she might have done this in Storybrooke too. Had things gone differently. Had Emma not been responsible for no one’s happiness but her own. She would have fetched the shovel from the garage and salted the driveway. The path leading up to the house. Emma shakes her head and laughs at herself. The order doesn’t affect the outcome. And for once, she is glad of it. The path is clear and safe and with that she can head inside. 

Wipe her boots on the mat at the door. Shake the snowflakes off her hair and put the shovel in a corner. Regina is at the bar, carefully drying shot glasses. There are subtle differences between Roni and Regina. The way Regina inspects each glass after she’s done with it. The furrow in her brow when wiping at a stubborn stain at the counter. The towel she keeps on her hip and not on her shoulder. 

“All done?” Regina asks as Emma goes behind the bar. 

“No one will break their tail on their way inside now.” She assures her. 

Regina nods and as her expression changes. Into something that doesn’t quite reach wistfulness. It comes with a sigh and brief gleam in her eye.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen snow in years,” Her hands stop polishing a glass for a moment. “At least in my real memories.” 

“Yeah?” Emma makes sure the pressure is good on the water at the bar. “Ever miss it?”

“Perhaps the first couple of days. When you watch it fall and it means that the air has changed,” Regina sighs and moves on to a different glass. “The brown slush that melts and refreezes, that I can do without.” 

She gets an image of herself slipping and falling. Last winter just outside the house at Bear Close. Emma had needed air, to get away from the choices she’d made. She’d told him she was going to the store, no need to come along. Because the cold made his bones hurt. At the corner she hadn’t wanted to avoid the puddle. Wanted to be as cold as she could get. Her ankle had bent and she’d landed on her knees. Emma had kept on walking in the night, frost settling on her skin. Turned back when she’d reached Mifflin Street. Where she wouldn’t be shoveling away. Something like fear grips her in the back of the throat. When Emma doesn’t know if she could walk those streets again. 

“Do you…” She begins as Regina stands on the tips of her toes to line up her bottles. “Do you think of ever going back? To Storybrooke, I mean.” 

Regina turns to look at her, eyes searching Emma’s face. Like she had been expecting the question for some time. She crosses her arms and leans against the counter behind them. 

“I thought about it in Concordia. Especially when plans went awry or the ground under my back was too rough. Mostly, I considered it when I thought about you. When I wondered if you had returned.” 

It takes a second for the words to sink in. To let relief settle into her bones. 

“Would you like to go back?” Regina asks her gently. “We could. We could go back to being The Mayor and Sheriff if that’s what you want.”

It doesn’t suit them anymore. Whatever title they’d held in Storybrooke, whatever they’d held onto so desperately. 

“It isn’t,” Emma takes her hand because she has to know. Regina has to be certain of it. “I’m kinda cool with being us being just abue and gran, you know?” 

“And you won’t miss saving the day?” Her lips curl and then part into a smile. 

“I’m learning there are a lot of ways to save the day, not just slaying dragons.”

“Or fighting ridiculous snow monsters.” Regina lets herself be pulled against Emma. Relax against her. 

“Or your sister’s flying monkeys.” She circles her waist and presses a kiss to the back of Regina’s neck. 

“Those are still not out of the question, you never know with her.” 

Laughter comes so easily now. Now that there is nothing they don’t say. Regina turns in her arms, with a look in her eye. Kisses once, twice. On her lips, at the base of her throat. With intent. It ignites her senses, makes her want and want. 

“Really, here?” Emma asks with a hand wandering under her shirt. “You’re sure about that?” 

“Why not?” Her breath is hot on her skin. “We aren’t open yet.” 

“You have a point there.” She says thumbing the strap she can undo in a snap. 

But Emma takes her time. To feel the dips of her body. That bit of flesh that peeks out by her hips, places where her skin has stretched. Tastes her pulse beating away under her tongue. The chill on her collarbone. The leftover scent of cocoa and lavender. 

“You know what I thought the first time you walked through that door?” Regina’s voice grows lower and lower. Fingernails raking at her sides. 

“Tell me.” Everything beats and throbs inside her. 

“I thought there wasn’t enough air in the room,” Her lips tease, her fingers play with the button of her jeans. “I thought I’d let it all go to hell for you.” 

“Regina…”Emma groans out. It’s all she can ever say, all her thoughts are reduced to. 

“Let’s go down to the basement.” 

“I thought you said here was fine. Oh, _shit.”_ Her fingers have found the zipper and slowly, too slowly, work at bringing it down. 

“I changed my mind.” The way Regina kisses her. Like she’s found fresh water after a long journey and can’t stop drinking her. Plunging face first into her.

“Do you...do you honestly think I can walk right now?” One more kiss and she’ll be out air altogether. Emma doesn’t mind. Doesn’t mind at all.

“If you know what’s good for you.” She laces their fingers together and takes several steps back. 

Emma is about to whine and try to keep her here. Convince her with well placed hands when the door bursts open. It isn’t anyone from the neighborhood, they would have known not to come in before the sign was on. 

“Oh my God, Caroline would you _look_ at this place?!” A girl squeals in delight. Emma only recognizes the price tags in her wardrobe. 

“It screams characters, the exposed brick! Even the rusty pipes. It was so right to call it the perfect place to get a shot of flavor.” The other one wears aviators over her hair and a fake tan that makes her teeth look whiter. 

They keep walking and even feeling the walls like this were a museum. Like she and Regina are not even there, or worse. Part of the decor. 

“Excuse me,” Regina tightens the grip on her hand as she bares her teeth. “But who the hell are you?” 

“Oh, where are manners? I’m Natalie and this is Caroline, and we’re part of the food tour!”

“The what now?” Emma asks, feeling anger simmering at the bottom of her stomach. 

“The food tour! The event that’s kicking off Ivy Belfry’s winter wonderland?” The girl says like those words make any kind of sense. 

Regina looks back at Emma. She knows what it means. Days, they’ve had only days since Victoria Belfry went out of the picture. That’s all the time Ivy needed to dig her claws deeper into this place. They are already behind in whatever she has planned for Hyperion Heights. 

“Yeah, it’s all over her Insta. See?” The Caroline or the Natalie girl pulls out her phone and shows them Ivy Belfry smiling and posing in front of several buildings. Short videos of her that over exaggerate the few freckles on her face. Photos of pastries and a schedule made in white and baby blue. 

“Can we just say that is so totally amazing that you guys are an interracial lesbian couple?” Natalie or Caroline tells them with the biggest smile on her face. “Like, most places like this can be a little on the homophobic side of the fence, you know?”

“Places like what?” The dangerous smile on Regina’s lips, it’s watching tigress circling unsuspecting prey. It’s rooting for the hunt to be successful.

“Oh you know,” One of the women looks at Emma instead. As if Emma could understand her better. “All...immigrant and stuff.” 

“And like with that rundown community or religious center thing right across the square you’d think it’d be so _difficult_ …” The other one lowers her voice. 

“Oh, we understand. More than you know” Regina drops Emma’s hand and exchanges it for her bat. Lips set into a snarl “We understand that you don’t belong here and need to get the hell out of my bar. Now.” 

“You can’t be serious.” They both scoff and tilt their heads. 

“Oh, she one hundred percent is.” Emma leans over the bar. “I suggest you run while you still can.” 

Natalie and Caroline cross their arms in defiance and Regina reveals her bat. It only takes one swing that cuts it a little too close to have them scrambling towards the door.

“We’ll be reporting you!”

“We’re allies, how can you treat us like this?!” 

Regina smirks and puts the bat down as if she were extinguishing a fireball. It’s only after the door slams closed that she slumps her shoulders and sits on a stool. Emma squeezes her hand because she can’t find the words. Doesn’t know what to promise her, not when Ivy Belfry is always two steps ahead. 

* * *

A blanket of white covers the streets, the yellow of the fairy lights gives them a particular glow. Gently yellow, unreal on a winter afternoon. The sign at the beginning of the square reads _Hyperion Winter Wonderland,_ in white cursive over sky blue. _._ It’s meant to look out of a magazine, Emma supposes. Erase anything real that might be under the surface. That is the appeal of the thing, after all. It’s all perfectly manicured, the roundness of the corners. The wooden stalls, the steam coming from them. The people in their red and green scarves, just enough hair poking out of their knit hats. Knee high boots and tailored coats. Champagne glasses in between two fingers. It’s like Tilly’s snow globe, except it’s to be kept on Ivy’s shelf. For her to shake whenever boredom hits. 

“This is an invasion,” Regina mutters as she huddles closer to Emma’s side. “Not _one_ person from the neighborhood is running a stall.” 

“Ivy really found her thing and stuck with it.” She says avoiding eye contact with the organic jams lady as they walk. 

“It makes me grateful that she never became queen or anything of the sort in Concordia.” Her voice wavers a bit just as her grip tightens on her arm. 

“How do you mean? Besides, you know, the fact that she’s Ivy Belfry.” 

Emma picks up on the glances they get. The way eyes fall on Regina’s curled hair and the arm that is looped around hers. Looks that all come with noses up in the air. 

“My curse, however awful it was, just made me mayor of a sleepy town in New England…”

“Anything that introduced vaccines and running water can’t be half bad.” Emma reassures her as her muscles tense.

“Yes, well my point being that I was the Evil Queen and all I managed to do was create a longer paper-work trail,” Regina’s eyes roam over the fair. “Ivy has found ways to actively hurt people under this curse. I can imagine she would have put me to shame on a throne.” 

“I think,” She tries to collect her thoughts and say it properly.. “People like her resent not having the power they feel they’re entitled to.” 

Regina nods with her jaw setting as they near a falafel stand run by an older couple. Emma doesn’t want to ask. Not have Regina hear how Allan and Janet got into falafel making in their retirement or after a trip. How they want to set up shop in this neighborhood because the rent is just so affordable. Instead she wraps her arm around Regina’s waist and keeps walking. 

“Would you look at that?” Comes Jamilah’s voice from their left. “Roni and Clark, as I live and breathe. Word has it you two barely come out for air.” 

Jamilah is practically grinning as she rocks herself on the balls of her feet. Half her face buried in a bright blue scarf. The thick coat she’s wearing hangs off her knees. 

“Umm..” She can’t even squirm as the heat climbs up her neck. Emma moves to pull away from Regina but she keeps her arm in place. 

“Oh would you stop that, Mila?” Regina huffs without any real bite. 

“Hey, you were driving the whole place crazy with that will-they-won’t-they crap you had going on.” Jamilah smirks and rubs her gloved hands together. “ That aside, what brings you to this purgatory today?” 

“Thought we’d come check up on the enemy.” Regina replies.

“Oh, the beignet stand at the end of the block?”

“The _what_?!” Emma’s voice cracks. 

“Tilly saw them setting up shop today. Dreadful looking people, she said.” Jamilah crosses her arms. “She’s getting a free sample from them. Says the true test of their intentions is in the taste.” 

“I don’t like this. It feels too deliberate,” Regina says, knitting her brow together. “ I might have seen some sign advertising vegan pupusas somewhere. The falafel couple…” 

“I know we celebrated that the feds took Belfry but this girl,” Jamilah catches sight of Tilly coming their way while balancing two cups. “She is much worse.” 

“What do you…” 

“The line wasn’t too long, was it?” Jamilah asks Tilly a little too loudly, a clear sign that the subject should be dropped. 

Tilly shakes her head and hands her a cup. She is wearing black today, down to the thick socks that bunch up at the top of her boots. 

“They’re putting the beignet bites in cups. We thought of that but couldn’t afford it.” Her eyes turn on Emma and Regina and she smiles weakly. “Hey Roni, hey Clark.” 

“This could never be as good as Sabine’s. Cup or no cup.” Jamilah tells her popping one into her mouth. “See?”

Emma follows suit. It’s sugary and dough-y. On a bad night she could eat a whole cup and not mind it too much. 

“Tastes like a stale churro.” Regina says carefully wiping at her lips. 

At that Tilly seems comforted. She takes a deep breath, as if she were bracing herself, and takes a bite. Her expression shifts straight away, like for a moment the veil of the curse has been lifted off her. She chews slowly and her chest rises unsteadily. Jamilah picks up on it, like a reflex. Things a curse can’t erase. Her hand goes to her shoulder and Tilly flinches. 

“What is it?” Jamilah asks her softly. 

“Can’t say.” Tilly mumbles, gaze dropping to the snow. “It..it tastes like being trapped in the fog.I don’t like this. I don’t...it makes my head spin.” 

“Take a deep breath, honey. OK? You’ll be fine..” She tries to wrap her in a hug. Jamilah never quite forgets that she belongs to her. “Come now..”

“No, no.” She shakes her head and pulls away. “You can’t be near me.”

“ Tilly. Listen to me, you know that’s not true. It’s never been true and it....” 

“I’ll hurt you, Mila!” Her voice is watery. “I...I’ll stop your heart! You’ll be twisting with pain! Dying! And it’ll be my fault because I couldn’t stay away!” 

“Tilly, please…”

“NO!” It makes people begin to turn their heads at them.

It’s like a thin blade. Cutting deep enough to bleed. It’s a moment of awareness Tilly is having. Not enough for it to make sense but enough to bring tears to her eyes. A knot forms in Emma’s throat, bobs up and down as Jamilah’s hands reach for Tilly. 

“Why don’t we go to Miss King’s?” Regina steps forward and stops short of touching Tilly’s elbow. “There are a few things I want to pick up.” 

Tilly takes a breath. Two. Three. And nods, allows Regina’s hand on her arm. They walk ahead and Emma and Jamilah only follow once Regina motions that they can. 

“She gets like that sometimes.” Jamilah sounds like she’s about to break too. “And I wish I knew how to help her.” 

Emma bobs her head, wishes she could tell the truth. That they’re working on it. That they just need a few more days to figure out what will do it, what will break this curse. Then they’ll find a way to heal her heart too. 

“Tilly knows you’re there for her. Trust me, that goes a long way.” 

“It’s…” She swallows something back. “It’s hard, you know? I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know her. When I wasn’t packing up extra lunch. And I still can’t make it better for her.” 

“Gotta say she would probably object to that.” 

Jamilah says nothing as they turn a corner and the lights from Ivy’s winter wonderland are fading. Where the chatter of strangers dies down and it’s the quiet of a late winter afternoon. Ivy’s mark is visible on the buildings now. The fresh coat of paint in some, the peeling of others. The rust in the metal gates of the places she has yet to take and the fresh black metal in the ones that have been swallowed whole.. 

“People leaving the neighborhood has her on edge. I think that’s all of us but,” Her voice grows lower as they approach a shop. _Miss King’s Books and Records_ in yellow and green letters on glass. “It’s like she’s watching dominoes fall. I thought it’d help if she tried to do something about it. I was wrong.” 

“You’re really trying, Jamilah.” Emma thinks of Henry. Lucy. Eyes shining as they try to explain, explain what goes on in their head. “That’s more than some people do.” 

“Hmm.” 

The bell above the door rings as Emma swings the door open and lets Jamilah go in first. It’s a tight place but neatly organized. Books and records sorted by genre. Two baskets at the center full of them and a sign that reads $3. Broken records hang from strings and newspaper cutouts form a picture on the wall. The troll under the bridge that marks the entrance to this neighborhood. She can see why Regina would bring Tilly here. It’s clear when they flip through record sleeves and cassette tapes. It’s like her trailer, full of things that’d keep her safe. 

Regina rubs in between Tilly’s shoulders before leaving her to use the headphones at the end of the row. They look all too big on her but the music eases her breathing. That crease between her eyes.

“Is it passing?” Jamilah asks as Regina comes back to them.

“She is a little more upset than she lets on” She replies as she scans the spines of the books in front of her. Almost knowing that Tilly would pick that moment to turn their way.

“Yeah, it’s a bad day today,” She blows air through her lips and rubs her temples. “And the way things are going, I’m afraid that’s all there will be.” 

“You said something like that before, what did you mean?” Emma asks, picking up an old cassette from a box.

Jamilah moistens her lips and looks around the store as if to check if someone could eavesdrop. There is only the cashier checking her phone at the register. 

“Since you two looked into that container down at the docks, I’ve been keeping an eye on it.” There is something nervous in her voice. “Ivy’s been frequenting that place every day since they arrested her mother. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that every day more and more people are packing up and leaving.” 

“What do you think she’s doing down there?”

“I...I don’t know.” Jamilah’s eyes shift to the figure coming up from the basement. “But she went in late at night on Wednesday last week, by the next afternoon two people were closing up early.Thursday it was the same thing. They had a Belfry Properties sign on their door by the next day.” 

“And today was her white as snow fair.” Regina mutters with her chest swelling up in anger.

Emma’s pulse quickens at the realization. Replacement. Moving at full steam. The drumming in her ears gets so loud she almost misses the woman joining them. In thick rimmed glasses and graying hair neatly arranged in locks. The red knit sweater she’s wearing looks warm on her dark skin. Emma guesses she must be the store owner, from the weariness she’s trying to hide. 

“You ladies doing OK?” 

“Yeah. Thanks, Evelyn.” Jamilah replies bobbing her head.

“I got some cumbia records with your name on them, Roni,” Evelyn smiles at Regina. “I’d get them before they’re gone. Some first editions too.”

“Oh? Do I have competition now?” 

Evelyn drops her shoulders but her good mood doesn’t fade. 

“I got a notice of a rent hike for the next month. So, I decided a clearance sale is in order. To cut my losses and pay Cynthia’s salary.” 

“I didn’t know this was a Belfry owned building.” Emma speaks as she begins to piece it all together.

“It wasn’t. Not until yesterday, anyway.” Evelyn rearranges some titles on a shelf and pulls one to hand to Jamilah. “For the days after a doctor’s appointment.”

For a moment Jamilah closes her eyes and presses the record against her chest. 

“This is bullshit. You’re not closing down the store.” She tells, her voice shaking. 

“Short of finding a treasure chest between the floor planks I’d say it’s almost certain. If it isn’t this month, it’d be 2 months from now and the balance in my bank account would be in a deeper shade of red.” 

The curse. It can be too much, more than just waking up and living the same day every day for twenty eight years. Emma’s stomach gets cold when she thinks about the people who’ve left Hyperion Heights. If they become the people the curse says they are. If they forget about this place forever. 

“You can’t. We won’t let it happen.” Regina tells her with the same tone she gave out orders as Mayor. “We’ll hold an event to keep you afloat and we’ll protest your rent hike.” 

“We’ll do it this Saturday.” Emma blurts out, thinking of Evelyn getting lost out in the world. 

Regina gives her a stunned look that quickly dissolves into a pleased smile. Emma knows this isn’t who they used to be. Without the cuffs and town ordinances. Without the titles. 

“This Saturday?” Evelyn asks in disbelief but with her eyes lighting up. “As in two days from now?”

“I don’t see why not.” Regina says.

Jamilah takes a deep breath and pats Evelyn’s shoulder.

“Looks like I’ve got a few calls to make.” 

* * *

Emma wracks her brain for a memory like this one. Sitting outside with her hands under her thighs. Next to her son out in the December cold. They could have been out just like this when he’d been thirteen and she had wanted nothing but to ask Regina to escape the madness with them. Go to New York and figure out a new life together. He’d been thirteen and didn’t remember anything about magic or curses either. A hand falls on her shoulder, soft as it makes its way to the nape of her neck.

“This will warm you up.” Regina says as she hands a disposable cup. 

“Was I that obvious?” 

“You’re practically clattering your teeth, Clark,” Henry points out taking a sip out of his own cup. “Doesn’t take special surveillance to figure that out. Not that Roni isn’t watching you like one.”

“Henry!” Regina gasps but is quick to smile, as if to say _he’s still our son._

“You know me, facts only.” He shakes his head at them. The awkwardness and shame from having walked in on them almost forgotten. Almost.

“I’m just keeping volunteers from catching a cold.” There is a hint there. Of Madam Mayor, her hands folding in front of her. Eyes wide and that practiced smile. Done as a joke, one only Emma is meant to catch. 

“Civic duty, huh?”

“This is more anarchist oriented, I do believe.” 

“That wasn’t on the flyer,” Henry laughs and it’s Friday nights and board games again. “Will have to let my followers know.” 

Emma sips from the drink. Mulled wine that would have required a permit in Storybrooke but that Regina keeps warm on a hotplate inside of Miss King’s. She breathes in relief, letting the warmth and the taste of orange peel spread all over. She could be here all day, listening to them talk. Seeing Regina smiling like this. 

“They’ve been good for business or so I hope.” Emma says nodding towards the dwindling pile of copies of _Once Upon a Time._

A free autographed copy for every donation above fifteen dollars. Last time Emma counted the bills in the cashbox they were nearing five hundred. Anything they can do to help.

“Hey, they have to be good for something, right?” Henry says with a shrug. 

“I’d call this a resounding success,” Regina says proudly and Henry instinctively basks in it. “The podcast crowd is really pulling its weight.” 

Henry’s eyes are the same shade as Regina’s when they light up. It’s been so long since she’s seen this. Since she thought it would ever be hers again. 

“Between your wine, Sabine and Jacinda’s food and the music Tilly’s been playing, I’d be surprised if people didn’t demand this to become a weekly thing.” He sounds so content that it warms Emma just as well as the cinnamon in her drink.

Emma lives for that conspiational look in Regina’s eye. The one that asks her to remember one of their shared secrets. The sealed envelope she glued closed this morning. The cursive letter that could only belong to Regina Mills asking Evelyn King to please open in private. The numbers imported from Storybrooke and made real into bills in Hyperion Heights. It was the fair thing to do, what good was magic money locked away in a bank? It was the real purpose of setting up this event so quickly. A plausible enough explanation for the funds. Safer for Evelyn and the neighborhood.

“Who knew fairy godmothers existed?” He asks

“Ugh.” Regina says before she can help herself. “Those insipid gnats with wings?”

“You have something against faeries, Roni?” Emma tries her hardest to keep it subtle. “Those kindly things that grant wishes?” 

Henry has turned to watch them. His brow furrowed in curiosity and his lips pressed into a thin line. Like he’s trying to place them.

“I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing,” She says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Should I be concerned?”

“Oh no, I’m way more into evil queens and stuff,” Her cheeks ache from trying to contain her grin. “I don’t know if that eases your concerns..” 

Regina narrows her eyes at her. That distinct look that tells Emma that she isn’t doing this. The closest she will ever come to admitting defeat. 

“I think I hear I’m needed indoors.” Regina turns on her heel with an exaggerated huff. 

Emma watches her go until Regina rolls her eyes at her through the Miss King’s window. She doesn’t try to keep the smirk off her lips as she drinks some more wine. 

“You two have a weird way of flirting, anyone ever tell you that?” His expression is like it would have been at thirteen. Toeing the line between confusion and a cringe. 

“Once or twice.” Emma admits as she scratches the back of her neck. “So uh, think the livestream will work?”

“It’s what all the kids are doing.” He says with a wink. “If anything, it’ll help if people can see how hard everyone in the neighborhood fights for it. Beats me talking about it, at least.”

“Fight fire with fire too.” Emma thinks of the story on Ivy Belfry’s profile. Clip after clip of gourmet foods and expensive trinkets. Filters that added glow. A million thanks to all the new entrepreneurs for their gifts. 

“I…” Henry sighs as he retrieves his phone from his pocket. “I don’t know how I was so wrong about Ivy. How I fell for that whole act.” 

“You and about ten thousand followers, kid.” Emma knows the full truth, that a poisoned heart only sees what it wants to see. The most convenient version of reality. 

“So much about my instincts about people.” Henry looks a lot like Tilly did, veil off his eyes. “But sometimes even your super-power fails, right?” 

“Right.” She agrees carefully, hoping that the veil will continue to lift. 

He doesn’t seem to have noticed. To know he mixed in Clark and Emma Swan, that he recognized her through the fog. Henry only smiles and stretches before getting up.

“You’re OK holding down the fort? While I go walk around for the stream?” 

“Course.” Emma lets go of a breath as she looks up at him. “If any of the books aren’t autographed I’ll just say I have the author’s permission to forge it.” 

“You’re hilarious.” Henry deadpans. Their son, still their son. 

She waits until he’s reached Sabine and Jacinda at the opposite corner to find his stream. Henry is only in camera for a short moment, quickly explaining the event. He turns to Sabine and Jacinda and lets them speak. About Miss King and what the store means to them. Sabine seems to have been born for it. To explain every detail with such ease. To say that Miss King had used her savings to create a cave of wonders for the neighborhood. That there is no place like it and it’d be a shame to see it replaced by something less important. Jacinda pulls Lucy into the frame and has her talk about the music she keeps in the house. About the Saturday afternoons like this one where they come out with a half dozen books picked by Miss King herself. No other place would be able to do that. Jamilah gives him a subtle nod before shuffling behind the counter. And Tilly talks about the times Evelyn let her take records out on a loan. Put it on layaway, anything she needed. It’s important, she says. 

“Oh, where did the idea for the mural come from?” Evelyn asks the camera as hearts pop up. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, it only seemed natural to me. This whole neighborhood is special and that troll under the bridge marks where it begins. You’re a writer, you ought to know.”

Henry chuckles and clears his throat. He must be blushing behind his phone. 

“Uh, so why books and records?” 

“I had this idea of giving the people of this community art they could relate to,” She pushes up her glasses and stands a little straighter. “Art made by people like us, for _us._ At a price the community could afford.” 

“Can you walk us through how you go about finding the books and records on sale now?”

Evelyn laughs and wipes pretend-sweat off her forehead. “Let me get a drink of water first, it’s a long explanation.”

Hearts of many colors pop out along with a few smiley faces and Emma feels proud of today. That they can come together like this. So much she misses the figure standing in front of her.

“It’s a lovely sentiment, I’ll give him that.” Ivy tells her, teeth bare in a smile. She is dressed in greys and whites, cashmere around her neck. “But a little too PC, if you ask me. But that’s what you’re all going for with this pity party.” 

“What the hell are you even doing here?” Emma hisses and practically knocks over the table as she stands. 

“I’m interested in everything going on in _my_ neighborhood, Clark.” Ivy runs a hand through her salon-made hair. “And I do mean everything. Keep an out for irregularities. Especially whatever kept Henry from a promising new career in New York.” 

Emma feels her back go stiff. Like her body reacts prematurely to Ivy’s presence, braces itself for magic. Ivy’s eyes do glow blue, just enough to remind her what she holds over their head. But Emma only knows to push back, punch back. 

“I guess he’s stronger than you thought,” She balls her hands into fists to keep from doing something stupid. “We all are.” 

“Funny, Regina said the very same thing on a fateful day,” Ivy picks up one of Henry’s books from the spread. “And look how well that turned out. I’d call that lack of foresight.” 

“Did you want something? Other than gloat?”

“Pitch in my two cents,” Her finger twirls in the air in a clear threat. “I think it’s... _inspiring_ how they think they stand a chance against me.” 

“Tell me you’re almost done with your villain monologue thing” Emma feels the skin over her knuckles tighten til the point of pain.

“Villain? Isn’t the Savior all up for seeing the good in people?” For a moment Ivy almost looks sincere but the curl at the side of her mouth exposes her. “Won’t give me the same courtesy you gave the Evil Queen? I guess I’d have to get in bed with you for that to happen.”

“You’re _nothing_ like her.” If she had her magic, if Emma just had enough of it. 

It only makes a sneer grow in her lips instead. And Emma gets an idea of who Drizella might have been. Craved her mother’s blood and approval to the point of sickness. To the point she surpassed her in cruelty in an effort to get her love. Ivy had never wanted anything else to become the shadow her mother lived under. 

“True. I know better than to taint myself with the likes of this trash.” 

That’s it. Magic or no magic she is going to punch Ivy Belfry unconscious. Emma takes a step forward and readies her fist for impact. 

“You’re nothing but a piece of..”

“Careful with what you’re about to do, Savior.” Her eyes turn blue again and set themselves on a target to her side. Lucy, completely unaware and engrossed in a book. Emma has no choice but to back down.“That’s it.” 

“Can’t wait until the day comes when we send you back to hell.” 

“Hmm. A fool’s hope.” The smugness in her smile. She wants nothing more but to erase it. “I believe I’m entitled to keep this copy? I donated sixteen dollars.” 

Emma says nothing, just stands over the table until she leaves. Until relief settles in that at least she spared her family from this pain today.

* * *

Lucy thinks she is outgrowing her jeans and maybe her coat. She can see the pink trill of her socks if she moves just in the right way. But they still keep her warm and so long as they don’t tear it’s all good. She zips herself up quickly and rushes to put her beanie on. If Lucy is going to find that book she hid away in the wrong section at Miss King’s she has to leave now. 

“I know I can trust you with this.” Mom says as she hands her a twenty. “Eres nina grande and…”

“I know, mom,” Lucy says, quickly pocketing the bill. “I’ll only get a Snowball only if there’s money leftover.” 

“Hmm. OK.” She bites her lip and straightens Lucy’s scarf. “I could come with you, help you pick out the right…”

“Jay, let her go. It’s only to the cornershop” Tia says as she does her hair in front of the bathroom mirror. “Besides, it’s not like she skipped class with a chaperone.” 

“Yeah, mom.”

“Alright, alright.” Her mom sighs and fake glares at her. “But you come straight back, Sara Lucia.”

“Where else would I go?” And with that she heads out the door.

Lucy thinks if she’s fast enough getting everything on the list then she can make it to Miss King’s. She has dad’s ten dollars in her pocket and her coat would fit the book in nicely. Not that mom would mind it too much if she found out. Her mom is making things work and Lucy knows she can feel guilty sometimes. When she drops off her at abue’s or when Lucy has to do anything by herself. It won’t be much longer. It’s hard to imagine what Hyperion Heights would be without the curse. 

When picking the four good onions and the four good potatoes, the carton of milk, a couple of apples and searching for the smallest bag of sugar she thinks that when the curse breaks she won’t have to worry about the money in her pocket. Mom wouldn’t have to feel guilty anymore, she and Tia won’t have to work so hard anymore. They’ll move to a bigger place. Maybe in abue and gran’s building. 

She eats the Snowball on her way to Miss King’s. 

“Hello, Lucy.” Miss King says as soon as she steps in. She eyes her and her bag of groceries over the rim of her glasses. 

“Hi, Miss King.” 

“Come for that science fiction book you hid in the history section?” The ends of her mouth twitch.

“Umm…” Lucy thought she could have been as good at this as gran. But maybe abue’s right, she inherited her lack of subtlety. 

“It’s still there.” This time she smiles fondly at her. “There are a few more that need hiding, I do believe.” 

“Really?”

“ _Really.”_

Lucy only knows to smile at Miss King and head towards the wrong section to find her book. Right where she left it. Yellowed pages and a yellow and pink cover. Two women who look suspiciously look abue and gran are on the cover fighting a green tentacle monster. She thinks she has just enough time to look at the other titles. She’s swinging her groceries over to her shoulder and trying to balance three books when the bell above the door jingles. 

“Hello, Evelyn.” 

Lucy feels a chill go down her spine. _Ivy._ She drops to the floor as quietly as she can and leans against the shelf’s corner. Ivy is wearing one of her expensive coats, stripped and buttoned up to her neck. And she’s smiling because she’s always smiling. Awful people tend to that. Victoria was the same, she’d smile whenever Lucy sat across from her at the dinner table. 

“Can I help you with something?” Miss King asks just like she would anyone else. Except she seems to be holding her breath. 

“I heard about your fundraiser last weekend. I heard it went well.”

“It did.” 

“I do hope you don’t mismanage those funds, Evelyn.” Ivy folds her hands and tilts her head. And how Lucy _hates_ her. Hates that stupid voice. The same one she’d use whenever she used mom against her. _I do hope mother doesn’t find about this and keep you from seeing Jacinda._

“What are you implying?” Miss King hardly ever gets upset but Lucy can hear it now. She’s trying to hold herself back.

“Nothing, nothing.” She waves her hand in her face before settling on her chest. Her necklace, Ivy is reaching for the necklace. Shaped like a seashell. “Although I wish you’d reconsider giving up the place.” 

“Giving up the place?” Her brown eyes light up with something blue. Lucy has to stifle her gasp. Magic. Ivy is trying to use magic on MIss King.

“Why, yes. Let’s say that you’ve made enough for this month’s rent but about two months from now? When the new neighbors move in it simply...won’t translate into customers.” 

“I suppose that makes sense.” She replies as in a trance.

Lucy wants to scream, tell her to snap out of it. This is why more and more people have left these days. 

“So you’ll close down the store and go search for better opportunities outside Hyperion Heights?” 

“Leave this place?” Miss King asks.

“Yes. _Leave._ ” Ivy steps closer and gives her a necklace a tap. “Never to return. Take that fundraiser money and start fresh.” 

“I...I...don’t know.”

“It’d be so easy,” Lucy wishes she could yank her necklace off her. She wishes she were strong like her gran or as smart as her abue. They’d know what to do. “Pack up and start a new life.” 

“Away from here?”

“So far away.” 

Miss King shakes her head and with it the blue begins to vanish from her eyes. “I don’t know if I want to do that. I _don’t._ ” 

Lucy breathes in relief. She doesn’t get to have this place or Miss King.

Ivy’s teeth always seem the whitest when she’s angry. When she smiles like that. She almost taps at her necklace again but seems to decide against it. Lucy doesn’t get why. 

“I’m sure you’ll come to see reason.” There are still some hints of blue in her eyes. “Promise me you’ll at least think about it?”

The other woman seems to nod against her will. Lucy stays put until she knows Ivy’s gone and a couple of blocks away. 

Miss King says nothing about when Lucy pays for the green tentacle monster book. She only says goodbye, her eyes cast to the side. And Lucy knows it’ll only take a push to change her mind. If Ivy comes back and uses her magic on her then she’ll be gone. Forever. Lucy can’t let that happen. 

_GRANDMAS!!! EMERGENCY MEETING TONIGHT!!! OFFICIAL CURSE BUSINESS_

Lucy hits send and races home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to hear what you think!


	11. The Empire Strikes Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing the final chapter I realized I needed to split in two if the pacing was going to work so now it's 13 chapters! Thank you for all the kind comments, they always make my day!

At one point in her life Emma had wondered what it would be like. To have a mother on the phone as she cooked dinner. Maybe she’d spent a little too much time on that. Trying to imagine her mother’s voice. What it was Emma would be cooking. Henry had been there in these fantasies of hers. Or who she thought Henry would be. But Emma had always been aware it was wanting the impossible. In a way it still is. Listening to Snow’s voice coming through the line Emma realizes that. 

“You should see Neal, Emma. He’s grown so much!” Emma never trained herself to keep from cringing at her brother’s name. “Tallest boy in his class!”

“He looks big in the photos you’ve sent me.” She flips the sandwich over on the pan. “How’s everyone? How’s the town?” 

Her mother takes a deep breath and Emma braces for the worst. Instinctively she turns to find Regina. She’s busy organizing Tilly’s stuff in the shelves of the place across from theirs. Snow globes and all. Regina twitches up her nose in a distinct way when she catches Emma’s eyes. _What’s wrong?_ It’s what she means. Emma shakes her head and waits for it. 

“Well, Sister Corinthia is Mayor now. Since, she ran unopposed after Regina left,” Her mother pauses and Emma’s heart speeds up. “So far, so good. I mean, it’s not like Regina didn’t run a tight ship. I suppose there is very little to do. And considering she has all the faeries’ support, she’s got all the line of defense we could need. Not that people don’t want Regina back, mind you.” 

“Oh?” Emma almost lets the phone slip from her shoulder. “Umm, how’s David?” 

“He got himself a new deputy after he stepped in as interim Sheriff. _Ruthie_ put that down _.”_ The phone rustles against a bit and Ruthie squeals. “He’s a good boy, David says. From the Land of Untold Stories.” 

There is the scratch of a needle and some old Stevie Wonder song begins to play. Just as the tomato soup on the back burner begins to bubble. From the corner of her eye she sees Tilly trying to get Regina to dance along. It’s one of the good days. When she’s wearing red again. 

“Not to say that we don’t miss you, sweetheart.” Snow whispers. Emma notices she doesn’t ask when she will come home. She doesn’t have to. It’s always there in between her words for her to pick up. “Because we do. So much.” 

“I,” She has to stop herself from saying we, from promising what she can’t give them. She isn’t doing that anymore. “Miss you guys too.” 

“Emma.”

And she is bracing herself again. It’s how it always began. How she ended up dressed in a pink dress. In a lace wedding dress. Regina is suddenly at her side, taking the spatula away from her. Lifting her hand to give it a quick kiss. Emma’s chest falls with gratitude and she leans against the counter. 

“Yeah, mom?”

“Are you happy, sweetheart?” Emma has to wonder if there isn’t a secret part of Snow’s heart that wishes for her unhappiness. If it’s the same part that wants her back in Storybrooke. But it can’t be. Emma knows that. 

Regina adds pepper to the soup and brings a wooden spoon to Emma’s lips. _Good. Good._ Wipes it off her lips with her thumb. 

“I think I am, mom.” She can’t keep herself from laughing. 

“I’m glad,” Snow tells hers. “Really.” 

Her phone pings at the same time Regina’s does. It can only mean one thing. Lucy. Her mind immediately goes to Ivy’s blue eyes and Lucy sitting completely unaware of the danger. 

“Mom, I’ll have to call you back,” Emma says as apologetic as she can manage. “Something came up.” 

“Of course. Talk to you soon?”

“Yeah.” 

She swallows back and taps on the red a few times. Slides down to check the notification. 

_GRANDMAS!!! EMERGENCY MEETING TONIGHT!!! OFFICIAL CURSE BUSINESS_

_Kid, you OK????_

Regina furrows her brow as her phone vibrates on the counter.

“Is something wrong?” She asks quietly.

“I’m trying to figure that out.” Emma replies watching Lucy type. At least she’s replying.

_Yeah! I’m OK!! Just get here NOW._

“We might have to cut dinner short.”

“How short?”

“Short enough for us to figure out an excuse to hang out with our grandkid?” 

Regina nods and cuts their sandwiches into neat triangles.“Tilly, dinner’s ready!” 

Watching Tilly’s eyes light up Emma remembers she was once a girl trapped in a tower. Remembers her life hasn’t been easy and that this is the least they could give her. This place away from her mother. Safer than the trailer she’d said goodbye to this morning. Jamilah had asked them to make sure she was alright. Because Tilly still wouldn’t see her. 

“Is this your specialty?” She asks Emma as she pulls on a chair. 

“Minus the tinfoil.” 

They sit and blow on their soup. Dip the bread into it and say nothing. Letting the music play. This is a lot like happiness. Like that fantasy she’d toyed with in her twenties. Warm soup and the heat of the stove. The grain of a record and the snow outside. The pleased smile on Regina’s lips and the nod of approval Tilly gives her. 

“All these years, you had me believing you couldn’t cook.” Regina tells her before taking another bite. 

“The trick is mastering three dishes and nothing else.” And Emma is so pleased, so caught up in this something like happiness that she doesn’t realize it until it’s too late. 

They share a gasp. They’d forgotten that they were supposed to be Roni and Clark. Who met when a stranger had walked into a bar. Not Emma and Regina. Not the Queen and Savior. Not Henry’s mothers. 

“Years?” Tilly blinks at them. 

“We, uh…”

“Figure of speech.” Regina adds trying to smile. “It feels like I’ve known her forever.”

Tilly puts down her sandwich and stares at her soup. Rubs at her temples and breathes. In, out. Once, twice. The girl in the tower, waiting for her mother to return. Emma can see her so clearly now. Trying so hard to keep her facts straight. To distinguish between dreams and life. 

“Don’t do that. Please.” She whispers. “Don’t lie to me.” 

Regina glances at Emma. It’s over in an instant but she understands. Knows that Regina sees Henry in Tilly, being told to believe a lie that would make sense. Begging someone to believe her, tell her she’s been right all along. 

“Alright. I won’t.” 

“Thank you.” Tilly spoons some soup into her mouth and then raises her eyes to Regina. “I know you from before, don’t I?” 

“You do,” She says carefully. “We’re practically family.” 

“Your name isn’t Roni, is it? But it’s something….it’s something quite similar.” 

“Regina.” A fond smile shines out for Tilly. 

“Regina.” She echoes and then turns her eyes on Emma. “And you? I don’t...I can’t place you in the fog.” 

“I’m Emma. I came here looking for my family.” That familiar knot in her throat is tightening again.

“And you found them.” Tilly nods weakly towards Regina. But there is a want there. In each blink, in the way she shifts in her seat. 

“I did.” Emma wishes, wishes Tilly would ask her. Like so many people in Storybrooke did. Ask for her happiness back.

Regina takes her hand, rubs at the small scar on the back of it.

“Do I…” Tilly struggles with the question. “Is Jamilah…”

“She is.” Emma tells her. Knowing what it is she is feeling. That crashing wave of realization. That something might go right. For once. 

“So it’s true,” Her eyes glaze over. “I can’t be near her...when the fog lifts. If I am, her heart will give out. It’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” 

“Sweetheart...” Regina presses her lips together but it does nothing to keep the tears at bay. “Yes, that’s right. Though that doesn’t stop her from loving you. Nothing could do that.” 

Emma tightens her grip on her spoon and knows there is one thing she can do. One thing she is compelled to do. Because she seems to have been born for it. 

“We’re going to fix that,” Emma is determined and clears her throat. “I promise. We’re going to beat this thing and get your mother back.” 

“How?” Tilly’s gaze is piercing. “How can you fix this?”

“It’s what we do.” Regina answers for her and lets relief wash over her. “But first, we’re going to finish our dinner.” 

A shy nod is what Tilly answers. A dip and a bite later and Tilly is smiling again. 

“We’re parking at the University District tonight. And I think Mrs. Omar is out for the night,” She tells them with her shoulders a little straighter. “If you were looking for an excuse to see Lucy.” 

She could be surprised but Emma isn’t. She really isn’t. 

* * *

Jacinda looks like she’s been running around the apartment when she opens the door. The lightbulb in the hall is dying and she lets them in with something like relief in her eyes. Supplies for the food truck are lined up neatly on a table. Pastry bags and Sabine’s best knives. Her hair is already tied up. Her shirt is untucked and the smallest beads of sweat run down her forehead. 

“I was just about to call you,” She tells them as she slips into her sneakers. “My plan kinda collapsed on me or I don’t know. Me confie, and could you watch Lucy tonight? I know it’s last minute and it’s _OK_ if you can’t…”

Tilly looks at Emma knowingly, barely keeping up appearances. 

“Jacinda, it’s fine. More than fine, actually.” Regina says rubbing her arm. _We’re family, she’s ours too._ Hangs at the edge of the look that she gives her. 

“Besides, we love hanging out with the kid.” Emma shrugs. “Who else is going to find my jokes funny?” 

“No one can say otherwise, your jokes are borderline terrible.” Tilly says just as Regina rolls her eyes. 

“Great!” Jacinda moves to gather utensils from the table. “So, she is supposed to do her math practice sheets. Eh, she had dinner already. But if she says her belly aches then, Roni you know el jarabe verde?...” 

“I know, I know.” There is an ease to Regina’s words. That comes from having always been there. Always having been Lucy’s grandmother. 

“And we both have your number. And Sabine’s.” Emma reassures her. 

“Right. Now, we really got to run. Stop for Sabine and then race to that spot…” Jacinda fumbles with her jacket’s zipper. Guilt, Emma sees it easily. 

Tilly gathers the rest of the stuff and opens the door. “Jacinda?”

“Yes. I’m going.” She has one foot out the door. “Adios mi amor!”

“Bye mom!” Lucy’s voice carries from her room. 

“Thanks again.” Jacinda takes one deep breath before she closes the door. 

It takes a whole ten seconds for Lucy to come find them. Phone in hand and with a nervous expression. 

“What took you so long?” 

“Well, good evening to you too.” Emma says with a nudge to Regina’s ribs. A Mills, through and through. 

“Lucy…” Regina says in a tone that is barely a scold. 

“Sorry. Hi, grandmas.” She steps closer and grabs both their hands to lead them to the couch. “Before I say anything, you can’t be mad because it was sort of an accident.” 

“What is this sort of an accident?” Regina says shedding her jacket. 

Lucy fiddles with her phone and presses her lips together. 

“Kid, it’s OK.” She squeezes her knee. “We won’t be mad.” 

“I went back to Miss King’s today. I wasn’t really supposed to, mom said to come straight back from the store. But there was a book I wanted and it was on the way, and dad gave me some money on Saturday,” Lucy says all in one breath. “Ivy came by. I hid so she wouldn’t see me and...I saw her try and use her magic on Miss King.” 

“To do what?” It’s as calm as Regina can manage it, she can tell. By how her chest rises and falls, how she closes her eyes for a moment. 

“To convince Miss King to leave. To take the money we raised on the weekend and run. But it didn’t work. I thought maybe she’d try again but then it looked...I don’t know. Like she changed her mind?”

“Did you see if she touched her necklace to do it?” Regina asks, furrowing her brow. 

Lucy nods, shaking as she does. 

“She was running out of power.” That look is on Regina’s face, the one when she is connecting all the dots. “Her necklace is like a battery and if Evelyn wasn’t bending to her will then she’d have to use more power than expected.” 

Emma remembers the talks of bad days. Of more and more people closing up shop and Belfry signs on their doors.

“The docks. She goes down to her creepy container to power up,” She thinks they should have torched the place when they had the chance. “It’s why she’s been going down there more and more. With her mother out of the picture…”

“Ivy has free reign on the neighborhood and needs her magic to get what she wants.” Regina puts her arm around Lucy. 

Tear them all apart. That's what all she wants. Pluck them one by one and convince them to lead a different life. Undo any protection, any ties that Regina’s magic had kept them in place. Have them forget about each other. Emma tries to focus on the weaknesses of Ivy’s plan and find the missteps.

“But if she’s going door to door with her act, that’d at least slow her down. Wouldn’t it?” 

Now Lucy shakes her head and unlocks her phone.

“You really gotta spend more time on social media, grandmas.” 

“You’re _ten_.” Emma feels like she has to point out. Because she should be as far away as possible from it. 

“Not the time for this discussion, darling.” Regina tells her as Lucy finds Ivy’s Instagram page and clicks on her icon. 

A video begins to play and Lucy and Regina let out identical signs of disgust as sparkles fill the screen in a pink haze. 

“So as some of you may know,” Ivy looks at the camera with that bleached smile. “I am going to be hosting a livestream tomorrow night. I usually don’t announce these things but I’ve been getting some questions about the future of Hyperion Heights. New businesses that I see opening up, new boutiques, patisseries. That kind of thing! So I thought I’d host an event with all my new neighbors and invite everyone in the community to join!”

The blue glow of her eyes makes it look like a filter but the tension in her muscles tell Emma it’s real. 

“This is bait,” Regina says through her teeth. “Slimy and backhanded, as usual.” 

“If she can get enough of Hyperion Heights to watch then she can make them all leave. Make them think it was their idea too,” Emma feels sick to her stomach. “Can...can magic even do that?” 

“One of Drizella’s talents was twisting things with magic,” Regina frowns as she speaks. “It doesn’t require much power or strength. Just intent. I don’t imagine technology is much different. People certainly are not.” 

“And she’s practically guaranteed herself an audience.” She blows air through her mouth and lies back on the couch. “Even people who hate her might join the stream.” 

There is a short moment of silence. Where she can hear them breathe. Hear them thinking. 

“Gran, abue...” Lucy begins, her throat gets stuck. “What are we going to do? How are we supposed to beat her?”

Emma glances at Regina. They’d promised Tilly. It’s what they do. Being confronted with the how now, so soon. Before they’re ready, she’s lost. Lost on how to fix this. Without a badge and gun. Without magic. 

“Launch a preemptive strike.” Regina takes Lucy’s chin and then presses a kiss to her forehead. 

“What does that mean?” 

A tight breath escapes her chest and Emma readies herself for what’s ahead. For what they’ll have to do with only their fists and maybe Regina’s baseball bat.

“It means we hit her before she hits us.” There is no way Emma can make this sound lighter. Make it sound like a game. 

Lucy seems to consider this for a moment. Then balls her fists with a determination that feels so familiar to Emma.

“We need my dad for this.” It’s so convincing, the strength of her voice. 

It has her believing of a place outside of caution.

* * *

They’d printed the file at a cafe. The file on Henry’s life. The one Ivy had kept for Emma to find. At the bottom of a long list of names. His Arizona birth certificate. The one with Emma’s slanted signature at the bottom. His Boston adoption records. The one with the undotted I’s of Regina’s handwriting. The photo where he had a lunch box in his grip and Regina was smiling with her cheek pressed against his hair. All unbelievable to him. That he could be theirs. That they could be his. 

It’s mere hours before Ivy’s evil livestream but Emma hesitates before stepping out of the Bug. Holds on to the wheel as she looks up at Henry’s building. 

“Is something the matter?” Regina asks as she takes Lucy’s hand. 

“No, no.” Emma shakes her head and manages to leave the car. “I just know what it’s like to be at the other side of that door. To get a surprise visit from someone claiming impossible, crazy things.” 

“We’ve got something much better than a potion.” Regina motions towards their granddaughter.

“Yeah we do.” She rolls the file and puts her under her arm. 

“Besides, dad’s the truest believer, gran.” Lucy tells her as she pulls on Regina’s hand. “There is no way this won’t work.” 

Her heart begins to pound. It matches her steps, crossing the street. Ringing the buzzer and up the stairs. Today. They’re getting Henry back today. Henry who remembers them. Beyond foster mothers who had lost him. Cold sweat begins to pool at the small of her back. Emma feels Regina squeeze her hand as they stand outside Henry’s door. She looks at her and thinks that Henry will know. He’ll look at Regina and know. Really know she’s the mother who sang him to sleep. He’ll remember. He’ll look at Lucy in her bright green hoodie and will know too. That she’s his daughter. And maybe he’ll know with her too. Know she’s Emma Swan and remember she loves him her whole life. He will, he will. 

The door doesn’t make a sound when it opens. Emma has to bite down a gasp. 

“Hey!” Henry smiles at them as he pushes the door wider. “Come in, come in.” 

Her nose picks up the smell just as Regina clears her throat. 

“Have you been painting?” 

“Yesterday,” He says as he pulls out four mugs from the cupboard. “Place used to be plain white. I thought it could use a more personal touch.” 

It’s a neat paint job, clean edges. A grey wall and what look to be brand new shelves. And if Emma didn’t know better she’d say that The Wolfman poster is brand new too. He’s settling into a life he thought he’d leave behind. Filling his walls. It means Henry is done running. And maybe this will make it more difficult. 

“I like it.” Lucy is quick to tell him. “Can I get marshmallows in my hot chocolate?”

Henry quirks his brow and Emma can see him be the father Regina raised him to be. He says nothing as he pours warmed milk into a mug and slowly mixes it in with the powder, a master of suspense. 

“Please?” 

“No more than four.” 

“Six.” Lucy narrows her eyes at him as she sits in front of the breakfast bar.

“Five and you got a deal.” He makes a show of dropping them into the drink and grins as he slides it over to Lucy. 

“Talk about getting swindled, kid.” Emma doesn’t manage to laugh.

“Hey, I ate my vegetables today.” 

“She has been spending too much time with you.” Regina tries to smile, tries to cut the unseen tension. And reaches for the coffee pot, as if this were just any other day. “May I?” 

“Of course. I made a fresh pot when I heard you were coming.” Henry pulls out brown sugar and cream, like he knows his mother. “So, uh Clark said you guys wanted to talk to me about something?”

“Yes, we do.” The cream swirls into the coffee when Emma picks up on the slight tremor in Regina’s hand. “It’s…”

“We need your help to keep Ivy from destroying the neighborhood.” Lucy tells him with chocolate milk mustache on her face and no shame at all. 

“Lucy, I thought we’d agreed...” Emma says, pretending she’s in any shape to take a shot of caffeine right now. 

“Not to spring things on people.” That attempt of a smile is still on Regina’s lips. 

“But we don’t have _time._ ” 

Henry shakes his head and laughs. Unaware of what it all means. 

“Is this about her soiree of gentrifiers?” He takes a sip from his coffee. “That’s what Sabine called it anyway.” 

“Wait. You know about this?”

“Yeah.” Henry says as if it were obvious. “I’m going to write the names of all the people she and her mother forced out of here. I’m going to record it and post it on Twitter. Ask my followers to share.” 

“Henry, you can’t.” Regina tells him. 

“Why?” He furrows his brow in confusion. Before they’d healed his heart it would have been outrage. Makes this harder like freshly painted walls and newly lined up books. 

“It’s exactly what she wants. She thrives on attention.”

Lucy’s right. They’re running out of time. If they sit here and try to convince him not to engage they will never end up at the truth. They will never get him back. And the curse will never break. 

“Kid. Actually, there is something else.” Emma inhales. Exhales. “Something I’d like to come clean about.” 

“If you’re going to tell me you’re not really a PI, I sort of figured that out by myself.” 

The playful tilt of his head makes forming words an effort. Her heart beats and beats. Up in her ears, down in her toes. Ripping away the mask, the illusion is always hard. Once Emma had been so eager to keep it. To let her son keep believing in the mundane, drive him away from Storybrooke. Convince Regina to come along. To a place away from magic and curses. One built on false memories. 

“I used to be a bailbondsperson, actually.” Emma is careful to push the mug away from her. Takes two steps back and lets Regina steady her. “Then I moved to a small town and became Sheriff.” 

Henry looks to Regina and then Lucy. Scoffs and puts his coffee down. 

“Very funny. So what next? Did the Mayor hate your guts and try to run you out of town?” 

“I don’t think I ever really hated her,” Regina shakes as she says it. “Even if she was meant to be my mortal enemy.” 

At that. His eyes darken, grow wider. As if they can’t decide what he is. Shocked. Angry. Confused. Repulsed. He crosses his arms and backs against the cupboard behind him. 

“What are you saying?”

“They’re your moms.” Lucy whispers as she slides off her stool. “Just like you’re my dad.”

“Lucy, sweetheart.” He softens as she approaches him. Uncrosses his arms and lays a hand on her shoulder. “I wish, I so wish that were true. I wish you were my daughter because you’re the greatest kid in the world. But what they’re saying is not possible. They’re _my_ age and besides my mother gave me up…”

“In Arizona. On the hottest day of the Summer.” Emma feels tears tangling up in her throat. “After five hours in the delivery room. No drugs because I was convinced they’d damage your brain or something…”

Henry makes Lucy move behind him. Sharpens his eyes and maybe Emma recognizes that look too. Fury. 

“You can’t do this.” He hisses at them both. “Maybe to me but not to her. She’s just a girl and you’re feeding into… just _stop_ playing this game. Stop the lies.” 

“I made you a promise when you were a little older than Lucy, and I’m keeping it until this day,” Regina braves a step forward. “I promised I would never lie to you again. I know you remember, carino. Deep down…”

“No. No, I don’t,” Henry’s voice turns hoarse. “Because that never happened.” 

“Show him the file, gran.” Lucy prompts behind Henry. The brown of her eyes are the same shade as Regina’s and she gnaws on her lip like Jacinda does. But Lucy’s heart, the way she’s still so sure. That’s all Henry. 

Emma nods, tries to say with a look that it will be OK. She lays it on the breakfast counter but before she can flip it, show him solid evidence Henry is backing away again. 

“Why are you doing this now?” 

“Your heart was poisoned.” Regina tries to soothe him. “We couldn’t before, you would have died. If we’d managed to convince you, that is.” 

He sets his jaw and his eyes begin to water. Lost children seldom ever believe they’ve been found. Emma knows that much. 

“That’s...I meant why...why wait until I was finally finding happiness?” Henry covers his chin with his hand. “Why not say these things before? Isn’t this life enough for you two? It isn’t perfect but goddammit it’s _real._ Why ruin it?” 

That sudden pain in her chest. It’s her heart tearing itself apart, tearing itself to shreds. Because they aren’t meant to do this to each other. 

“It isn’t real, mi vida.”’ Regina takes another step forward. “It’s only something like happiness. And believe me when I say, it will never be the real thing. No matter how hard you work at it.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I think you know we do,” Emma rubs at the back of her neck. “I think you know just how hard we worked to convince ourselves that we were happy with the hand we were dealt. Hell, I got married to a man who traded a ship for…”

“Stop talking!” His voice wavers but doesn’t quite break. “Does Jacinda know you’ve been filling her daughter’s head with this nonsense?” 

“It isn’t nonsense!” Lucy moves in front of him. “It’s the truth! _You_ wrote it, remember? And you’re supposed to believe _!_ ” 

It’s harder to believe when a heart, even the one belonging to the truest believer, is searching for happiness. Or something like it. Like a plant leans towards sunlight. Emma knows that.

“I know it sounds crazy, but you are _our son_ , Henry.” All the air leaves the room when Regina steps forward and takes his hand. 

“Emma Swan and Regina Mills are just two characters I wrote because I wanted mothers more than anything. They’re not real and you aren’t them.” He pulls his hand away from hers. “You need to leave.”

“Henry, please.”

“Now.”

Emma pinches her eyes shut, swallows back that knot to the back of her throat. 

“We’ll be down at the docks, if you change your mind.” She tells him, feeling something wilt inside her chest. “Lucy…”

“Is staying right here.” Henry straightens his shoulders. “I’ll drive her home and tell Jacinda all about this.” 

Regina says nothing as she walks towards the door, trembling all over. Emma slips her hand into hers, not knowing if either of them can keep standing. 

She isn’t strong enough to take one last look at their son. 

* * *

Henry listens for steps walking away from the door. He holds his breath for it, until he knows Roni and Clark are gone. He’s hurting all over. How could they? How could take something of his and twist it? How could they let Lucy believe it. He thought… he thought that maybe they could be part of this life he was making for himself. Of this place with Jacinda and Lucy, the kind of people he yearned to find. 

“ _Why_?” Lucy asks him with glazed eyes. “Why did you do that? They need our help!”

Henry gets down to her level and isn’t at all sure he can do this. That he can break her heart like this. 

“What they were saying was not true, Luce. It could actually mean they’re dangerous and I can’t let them be around us. Especially you.” 

“You’re just saying that because you don’t believe them!” She backs away from him and takes the file from the counter. “Because you don’t want to!”

Maybe that is the truth. Even if a big part of him--the part that beats under the bone, the part that had blossoms growing and aching to find the light--wants to believe. Wants to believe that his mother is a Queen and the other one is the Savior. Who want him more than anything. Who defy logic and reason. But the part that lives in the real world, the part that never got wishes granted, tells him it’s all irrational. Impossible. Nobody had wanted him and they aren’t about to start now. The voice of reason.

Henry takes the file and rolls it in his hand. Thumbs away the errant tears on Lucy’s cheek. 

“Want to talk about it over pizza?” He offers because it’s all he can give her. “Maybe give this file a read?”

It will put this whole thing to rest, if they can poke holes in this story. Spot the thing that exposes whatever documents he’s holding as fake. 

Lucy’s lip quivers and she begins to shake her head. 

“We can take the long way home after, what do you say?” 

Her eyes that are a shade too similar to Roni’s lock in his. Narrowed, and Henry swears he can see the gleam of an idea in them. He should worry, ask what it is that just occurred to her. But Lucy gives him a nod and a shrug. And that’s a good enough answer for now. 

She walks ahead of him and he thinks that if he were her father. If he were any kind of father he would know what to do. What to really do. Instead he puts his hand on her shoulder when they’ve reached the place. Instead he buys her soda because she’s always begging Jacinda to let her have it during the week. Settles into a booth with more slices he plans on eating and tries to think what it is he wants to say. What he should. 

“You said we would look at the file.” Lucy says halfway through her first slice. 

“Yeah. I did.” Henry reaches for it. Practically rocking itself on the table because he’d rolled it up so tightly. 

There is an ache in his chest, sweat on the back of his neck. But this isn’t about him. This is about Lucy who is still clinging to ideas he’d made up. He flips the folder open and sucks in a breath. State of Arizona. Certificate of Live Birth. He scans for a name. It only says John Doe. Born on August 15th, 2001. It’s his birthday in print but wrong by some eighteen years. 

“See?” Lucy asks pointing at the slanted script at the bottom. _Emma Swan. Mother._

“Lucy...if this, if this were really me that would make me seventeen.” He says as gently as he can manage it. “And I haven’t been seventeen in a while.” 

“You left Storybrooke this summer and time goes by faster in Concordia anyway. Then with abue’s curse we were brought back to this time.” She says stubbornly. “That’s why you’re older.”

Of course she’d have an explanation that is convenient and neatly solves every problem. She would. He would have too.

“OK.” He bobs his head and moves onto the next document. 

Adoption papers. This time his full name is laid out for him to read. Henry Daniel Mills. An official seal next to a signature he’d only imagined. Undotted I’s and looped L’s. Regina Mills. In his book he’d written that his name had a meaning behind it. Made it matter. Picked so carefully by Regina Mills. But it can’t be. It can’t be.

“It’s just a coincidence.” He says more to himself than to Lucy.

“It’s not.” She reaches across the table and flips the page. 

He presses his knuckles against his mouth to keep himself together. His younger self is looking at him. Perfectly trimmed hair, scarf around her neck. Smile on his face and. The unbelievable part. Roni has her face pressed against his hair. Coiffed hair and dark coat. A smile he’s seen when Lucy is running to greet her. And it can’t be. It can’t be. 

“Lucy, I…” Henry can hear the water in his voice. “I don’t know how to explain this. Maybe it’s a cruel joke, maybe…”

“You have your heart back, when are you going to see it’s all true?!” Lucy lies back against the booth and wipes her eyes. “You met mom at a ball where she was there to kill the prince! You painted our house yellow because that was the color of gran’s car and that’s all you ever said about her!” 

“It doesn’t make sense!” He says louder and more harshly than he’d wanted. “Sweetheart, I don’t remember _any_ of these things.”

Though that isn’t strictly true. Sometimes they come to him like scenes from a book. Ideas he’d wanted to forget. 

“It doesn’t have to make sense! You just have to believe!” 

“Lucy, please...” Heny begs with his chest full of air. 

She shifts in her seat and looks at him. Not one bit deterred by anything he’s said. 

“You sang me a lullaby, every night.” Her voice stumbles into a stammer but Lucy is determined. And he begins to waver. “Abue’s dad sang it to her, she sang it to you and _you_ sang it to me.”

Henry feels his heart beat faster. A pang of pain threatening to split his head open and his vision blurring.

“Durme, durme, querida hijica,” The words sound like a memory. Sounds like Clark humming that morning on the ferry. “Durme sin ansia i dolor.” 

His mother. His real mother with the dark hair and the voice. The voice that told him that he was loved. Mi pequeno principe, everything will be alright. Durme, durme, sin ansia i dolor. It all goes black. The pizza place is gone and in its place there is a dark fog. And he goes mute. Tongue tied. His brain is trying to see through a fog. Tries to pick memories from dreams. From wishes. It seems like an eternity has passed when he reaches towards where Lucy should be. To see if she is more than a dream. And finds nothing. Nothing. He panics and shakes his head. Until the black is gone, until he can see that Lucy is no longer there. 

He stumbles out of the booth and struggles towards the bar. 

“The little girl who came with me, where is she?” He asks the cashier, and listens to his beating heart. “My daughter, did you see where she went?”

“I think she ran out or something?’ She replies with disinterest. Re-ties her blonde hair into a ponytail and won’t even look at him. 

“And you didn’t think that was strange?!” Outrage is seeping into his bones. Because this wouldn’t have happened in Hyperion Heights. “You didn’t think to stop her?!” 

“No?” 

Everything spins and his body is growing hot. With a fever. His knees might be weak and he might retch but still he runs out the door. He needs to find her.

Durme, durme. 

“Lucy!” He shouts out in the street. Or it could be in a swamp, searching for her during a storm. Or rushing towards her as a horse went wild. “Lucy!” 

Seattle. Concordia. They bleed into each other. Cars for carriages. Snow for rain. Concrete for stone. Grey for green. Ella. Sabine. Tiana. Roni. Regina. Mom. Mom. Moms. Clark. Emma Swan. 

Sin ansia i dolor. Durme, durme.

Henry leans against a street lamp, tries to listen for his mother’s voice among all the chaos. Both of them. In all the languages he knows. They come as a whisper first and a clear call. He puts one foot in front of the other and trusts they’ll guide him through the fog of dreams and wishes. 

* * *

The cold had wanted to pierce her skin when they’d left Henry’s building. When she and Regina had crossed the street. Not breathing. Emma had struggled with the keys, kicked at the tires. Because fuck. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Their son wasn’t supposed….their son. Henry hadn’t wanted them. And that had twisted something inside her. She’d begun kicking at the door when Regina pulled her away by the waist. Turned her around and sunk into her arms.

“Emma, querida.” It’s all she’d said before she’d begun crying. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Sobs had escaped her freely. “I’m so sorry.” 

Emma said it over and over again. Until the word lost its meaning. Because she’d remembered a ten year old boy who insisted Regina wasn’t his real mother. A thirteen year old who hadn’t known her at all but who missed her without knowing it. A fifteen year old who had turned his back on Emma. Who had gone up the stairs and told her to return only when she was ready to start acting like his mother again. How that mother never fully returned, who’d begun to wither in an empty house. And he’d made excuses at sixteen. To not spend the night. To skip dinner. Emma hadn’t been strong enough. Not then. 

They’d moved only after a passing car honked at them. Gotten into the Bug and known there was only one thing left to do. 

She watches the road now. The white on the trees and the curb. Listens to the chains on the wheels power through the snow. The ache at the back of her throat reminds her that this is all real. That their hearts are broken but that they have to keep going. Emma says nothing and Regina squeezes her hand once. Then keeps her arms wrapped around herself. She can’t fix this, not like a promise made behind a door.

The cool and impersonal voice of the app tells her to turn right. Only five minutes until they find the docks. Until this night is over one way or another. With a half-baked back-up plan that puts every other they’ve ever had to shame. Emma slows down and finds the right spot next to the fence to park. Kills the engine and drums her fingers on the wheel. 

“I suppose this is it.” Regina’s voice is hoarse and quiet. Weighed down by the odds of failure.

Emma turns to look at her. Finds her red-eyed and tear-stricken. It might as well be that night when Emma wished she weren’t alone. When she first met her outside on Mifflin Street. She reaches for her, cups Regina’s cheek like she’d wanted to on that first night.

“You got your lighter?” She asks, wishing she felt stronger too. 

“It’s in my pocket.” 

“Then we set the whole damn thing on fire.” Emma tells her in between sighs.

“I think I’m rubbing off on you.” It’s a ghost of a smile on Regina’s lips. “I got my bat in the trunk, in case we need a plan B. Or C.” 

“God, I love you.” It’s easy to say in a way Emma never expected. It rolls out of her tongue smoothly, without anything attached to it. No guilt. No obligation.

“I know.” Regina kisses her, lightly. Once, twice. 

“Let’s go do crime.” 

They step out of the car and pull out the can of accelerant and Regina’s bat from the trunk and step on top of the car. They manage to squeeze the can and bat through the fence but there is no way but up for them. Emma climbs first. Careful not to get her foot stuck in the metal. She jumps off once she reaches the top. 

“Showoff,” Regina says as she sits on the edge. Emma stretches her arms, ready to catch her. “I’m _climbing_ down.” 

The security cameras must have recorded them by now. It won’t matter either way. They make their way through the rows of containers, breath freezing around them. 

“Such an odd choice for a lair.” Regina says rubbing her hands together. “Too out in the open.” 

If she remembers it correctly, Ivy’s creepy killroom must be around the corner. Just a few more minutes and they’ll get rid of whatever powers her magic. If they can’t break the curse at least they can do this.

“Yeah, a crypt at the local cemetery is much better.” 

“That had style.” 

Emma shakes her head and snorts. Three, two containers down. It’ll be over soon.

“It did. It had too much style.” 

“What are you saying, darling?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I have very fond memories of your vault,” She fishes her pockets for a clip to work the lock. “It really…”

Except. There is no lock to pick. The container is open and a sliver of light hits Emma’s boots. 

“Shit.”

Regina grips her bat with two hands and Emma clenches her fist. Heels on metal click, click until they reach the front. And Ivy Belfry steps out. Dressed in an oversized white coat, a black scarf tied around her neck. She’s wearing that smug-piece-of-shit smirk.

“Isn’t this quite the coincidence?” Ivy makes sure blue is shining through her eyes. “Savior. Your Majesty, are those still the proper titles?”

“Oh, just shut up Drizella.” Regina barks. 

Ivy clicks her tongue and wags her finger at them.

“Cocky. I think you’ve forgotten who has the upper hand here.”

With a snap she has Regina dropping her bat, being stretched out like a doll. Finger being spread open and her chin is pushed upwards. Regina bites down on her lip, won’t give Ivy the satisfaction of groaning in pain. 

Emma only knows one thing. The one thing she’s been itching to do all this time. Punch Ivy in the face, until she’s stumbling backwards and wiping the blood off her mouth. She glances at Regina, who nods at her while regaining her footing. Focus, focus on the enemy.

“Can’t have this on camera.” She touches her index finger to her split lip and heals it. “It’ll make the neighborhood look rough.”

Emma goes for another punch but gets thrown back against Regina.

“This is it? Your big plan to stop me?” Ivy runs a hand through her hair. “If this is all you could do then that must mean you didn’t get your precious Henry back. How tragic.”

“You keep his name out of your mouth.” Regina tells her, ready to try her luck with the bat.

“God, Regina. What is it like to be you? To lose every time.” She goes to tap her necklace but instead only fixes her scarf and Emma sees an opening. “Why do you even try?”

“Those are big words for someone who needs a battery to keep her from an ass kicking.” Emma plants her feet. This she can win.

“I love that you think that.” 

“You can’t manipulate a whole neighborhood if you use your supply on us.” Regina steps closer. Dangerously closer. “So what’s it going to be, Drizella?” 

Ivy stuffs her hands into her coat’s pockets and throws her head back. 

“This is still the Savior’s world, Regina.” She tilts her head and bats her eyelashes. “Hello, 911? Two women are attacking me! Please come quick, one of them is speaking Spanish. I think...I think she’s in a gang. Please help me, please I’m so scared!” 

It’s then that Regina swings at her and misses by a hair. Ivy seems to be playing with something in her pocket, completely unconcerned. 

But that’s not what worries her. Not what catches Emma’s eye. Something is moving behind them. Someone.

* * *

She is doing this. With her heart racing and her clenched fists, Lucy is doing this. The necklace is golden and shaped like a conch. The chain always looked so delicate and Lucy has spent hours wondering what would happen if she could break it. Then Ivy would get hers and pay for everything she’s done. And if her dad isn’t coming, if he doesn’t believe then she’s all her abue and gran have. 

Lucy tries not to be scared. Because her gran and abue have never been scared of anything. Because they moved the moon that one time. Because gran took the darkness and abue fought herself. She watches them now, sharp eyes and ready to go down fighting. Lucy is doing this for them. 

Ivy has her back to her and it’s now or never. She readies herself and charges towards her. With all her strength and hands closed into fists. Just like gran taught her.

And she misses her. 

By a step. 

“Did you think I couldn’t hear you squating back there?” Ivy says, sneering at her. “Your breathing is as loud as ever.” 

“Lucy!” Her abue calls to her. “Lucy, listen to me. Get away from her and come to me.”

But she can’t. It’s like she’s frozen in place watching it all happen. Her abue with her eyes so wide, hand reaching out to her. Lucy wonders why she thought she had it in her. Why she thought she could be like them. Gran is inching closer and closer with a scowl on her face and Ivy _smiles_ at them. Lucy knows to be terrified. 

“You know what? Let’s have a little fun.” Ivy retrieves a small vial from her pocket. “What do you say?”

Lucy manages to back away, tears stinging her eyes. Everything is happening so fast. Faster than she can catch it. The blue of the vial bounces light off it and Ivy raises her arm above her head. Maybe abue screams her name. A forceful tug on her wrist pulls her aside and then glass shatters.

Into a million pieces. Pieces that turn into smoke.

And gran. Her gran stumbles backwards. With her chest rising and falling so weak. Her eyes are glazed over. And all blue. Blue with whatever Ivy had kept in that vial. 

“It’s gonna be OK, kid.” She chokes out. 

“Emma!” Abue tosses her bat aside and runs towards her.

And then she falls. In abue’s arms. Falls so hard that they both hit the ground.

“No, no.” Lucy whispers as rushes to her side, takes her hand. It’s as cold as the night.

“What the hell did you do to her?!” Abue hisses as she cradles gran’s head on her lap. 

It’s too much like when she cast the curse. She’d held onto dad just like that, parted his hair on his forehead. Kept a hand to his chest. Just like she is doing to gran. Her eyes are brimming with fury.

“Technically, she did this to herself.” Ivy looks down at them and straightens her coat. 

“Go _fuck_ yourself.” Abue grits out and it’s the first time Lucy's ever heard her swear. It makes her ears ring and her chest hurt. Hurt so much looking at gran’s limp body.

“Oh don’t be mad, Regina. I did the one thing you never could. Curse the Savior to sleep forever,” She steps over gran and picks at some lint on her sleeve. “I guess we’ll find out how true your love really is.” 

If she were stronger Lucy would run after her, make this right. Really rip that chain off her neck and crush it under her boot. Instead Lucy closes her eyes and locks her fingers with gran’s. It doesn’t stop the tears.

“I’m so sorry...I..” She sounds like a baby. “Abue, I didn’t mean to..I..I..was just trying to be like you.”

When Lucy opens her eyes her abue is extending her hand to her. Like she did before, when Lucy hadn’t been able to move. 

“Come here.”

It’s all the invitation she needs to bury herself at abue’s side. Like she did on stormy nights. Breathe the lavender on her skin and try. Try not to think about the thunder outside.

“Tesoro, you did nothing wrong.” Abue says so gently that it gets her crying again. 

“But if I hadn’t...Gran wouldn’t be cursed.” Lucy wishes her abue were mad at her. Maybe that would make it better. “It should have been me.” 

“No. Don’t ever think that. Emma wouldn’t have it any other way.” Her voice is shaky. “Do you understand me?”

“But abue…”

“Sara Lucia, this is no one’s fault but Drizella’s. If she was carrying that vial she was intending to use it. That was never going to change.” 

Lucy feels her press a kiss to her temple. She looks down at her gran, blonde hair splayed on abue’s lap. Watches her breathing, up and down. So weak. And she hopes she isn’t in that fiery place cursed people go to in their sleep. Abue takes one of her hands and lifts it to her lips. Closes her eyes and kisses it. Holds it there for a moment.

No pulse. No blinding light. Gran’s chest rises and falls just the same.

“Give it a try, carino.” Abue tries to give her a watery smile. 

And she tries. Tries to think about how much she loves her gran. Her dumb gran jokes and how strong she is. Her goofy smile that is just like dad’s and how she’s always there when she needs her. Lucy thinks of all that when she bends down to kiss her forehead. 

  
The only pulse is the one ringing in her ears. Nothing, nothing happens. Like it always does. Lucy falls back against abue and doesn’t care that she’s crying anymore.


	12. Return of the Jedi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this story last week, it was always going to end this way. They line up with recent events in the US. [Here's a link to where you can learn more about which places that need our support ](https://twitter.com/MNFreedomFund/status/1265735264242225152?s=20)
> 
> [More places for you to look into! ](https://twitter.com/MatthewACherry/status/1266895545022287872?s=20)  
> PLEASE help in whichever way you can. Keep it going.

Magic. Maybe he doesn’t remember it well. Maybe it’s just that his head is still spinning. But Henry is sure, he believes that it’s guiding him through the evening traffic. His body just seems to know the way, his hands turn the wheel at all the right moments. He is covered in a cold sweat and the whole of him aches. Aches for his daughter who needs him. Lucy. She gets flashes of her. A full head of dark hair when she was born. First steps on wooden floors. Clinging to him as he jumped the waves in the sea. 

And his moms. He’d been an idiot. It’s always been there. That feeling. From the moment he’d walked into Roni’s. Mom had been there, with a towel over her shoulder. And he’d wanted to tell her everything. Missed hearing her voice. Mom who wears her hair curly now, slides into leather jackets. Last time. Last time she’d been mom. He’d been twisting with pain, tasting iron and poison in his tongue. And she’d casted the curse. Kissed his forehead before the fog swallowed them. His heart is a hammer when Henry thinks of his ma. His eyes water and his head spins and spins. He had missed her so much he hurt. Wondered, wondered for years why was it that she’d never come to find them. And she’d been here. This whole time. Here, driving late nights with him. Rescuing Lucy out from a hole in the earth. Running covert missions with mom. Trying so hard to get him to see. 

A sharp pain strikes him. Like the tip of a sword piercing its way to bone and muscle. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. The sensible thing would be to pull over, let the pain pass. But he is his mothers’ son and instead he floors it. Doesn’t stop until he spots Emma’s Bug parked next to a fence. He doesn’t know if he leaves the engine going. If he even closes the door. All that matters is that pain coursing through. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Henry struggles to climb the fence, nearly gets his jeans caught in a wire. Scrapes the palms of his hands when he throws himself onto the ground. 

Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. The irregular beats of his heart don’t lie. Truest believer, his heart never lies. He shivers with the cold and lets what little magic he has in him take over. Believe that he can find them. Fix what feels broken. He hears his boots crunch the snow underneath, feels his lungs grow larger and larger. Three left turns. One right turn and the pain is in his spine.

It breaks him. Cleanly. When he lays eyes on the scene ahead of him. Barely lit and impossible to miss. His mom cradling Emma’s head. Lucy curled up at their side. Out in the cold, in the dimming light.

No. No. No.

“Lucy!” He yells as he runs towards them. 

Mom snaps her head up at him and Lucy rushes to her feet. He falls on his knees and takes her in his arms. 

“Dad. Daddy.” She cries and presses her forehead on his shoulder.

“Hija. Lucy, my Lucy,” he tells her, with the whole of him. “I should have believed sooner. I...should have listened...I..Lucy” 

“It’s all my fault.” Lucy trembles and he only hugs her tighter. “Abue said it wasn’t. That it couldn’t be. But...but...daddy it _is_ my fault. My fault gran’s cursed.” 

“Shh. It’s alright,” Henry presses a kiss to her hair. “It’s alright.” 

He doesn’t bother wiping his tears away when he looks at his daughter. Doesn’t hide his wobbly feet as he walks towards his mothers. Feels cold spread as he notices the lack of color on ma’s face, his mom’s ashen complexion. He kneels next to them, doesn’t dare touch them. Doesn’t want to feel the cold of Emma’s skin.

“Henry.” Mom’s eyes are flooded. “You found us.”

“Mama.” His chest heaves at the sight of them. Of mom’s fingers in Emma’s hair. “Mama, forgive me. Mama.” 

“There is nothing to forgive, mi vida.” And she says it so heavily, so filled with grief that he collapses next his ma. “You’re here now. It’s all that matters.” 

“What...what happened?”

“One of Drizella’s poisons. A sleeping curse in a bottle,” Mom runs her knuckles across ma’s forehead, the air trapped in her chest. “And Emma. She did what she always does.”

“She saved me.” Lucy tells him as she curls at his mom’s side. “Dad, she said...she said. Everything is going to be OK, but..she isn’t waking up.” 

“What?”

“I’m afraid True Love’s Kiss isn’t working.” Mom brings ma’s hand to her lips to prove her point. “Perhaps I underestimated Drizella, I shouldn’t have...” 

“Mom. Don’t do that to yourself.” It’s a family trait, he thinks. To carry the world on their shoulders. 

She closes her eyes, pinches them tighter. Nods after a beat or two. Last time he saw her like this, grasping at what little control she had left he’d been looking up at her. Been where Emma lies now. Henry looks at his ma. Sleeping the cold away on his mom’s lap. Hair like a crown and that old leather jacket like a pierced armor. And he thinks. No. He believes he has the answer. He has to. He’s their son. He belongs to them. They belong to him. Flesh and bone. Sangre y amor.

“Ma needs all of us.” He looks at his daughter before turning to his mom. “All the true love she can get.” 

This is how it’s meant to be. How it’s supposed to be. 

“So we do this together?” Lucy’s eyes light up at the idea. 

“I don’t know another way.” Henry feels his lips twitch. They curl into a smile when mom takes a deep breath. When she softens, when she’s crying with relief.

“Hijo, how we’ve missed you all these days.” She thumbs his nose, his chin like she used to do. When he reached her waist. “So much.” 

“Ready?” 

They both nod, practically glowing. Magic. Magic in the smallest of things. His mom leans down and Lucy takes her hand. And he thinks of Emma. Thinks yellow. Thinks sugar. Friday nights when she stayed. Of arms that had started off tentative around him and then always pulled him in closer. Thinks of Emma opening that door on her birthday. Of how much he’d wanted her in his life. Thinks of his mom brewing potions, taking a curse to bring her back to him. How he’d known. Known they’d come for him. Ma with nothing but a sword on her back. His ma saying it wasn’t fair, that it wasn’t a happy ending. Not without mom. Ma who always ran into the fire. Who punched and punched back. Who he thought of every day. Every day he drew a sword and strapped on his boots.

Henry closes his eyes and believes. Knows this will work. Kisses her cheek when he feels like his love is overflowing. When he knows his mom presses her lips on her forehead. When Lucy kisses the back of her hand. 

It’s as strong as an earthquake. The pulse. He opens his eyes and sees snow being pushed away from them. The light refracting in its crystals, coloring the air in its many colors. He feels it, the curse lifting off them. Off their shoulders, off their chests. He looks at Emma, eyes flickering and her chest rising and rising. 

There is more green in her eyes than he remembers. 

“Why are you all staring at me?” His ma asks with the biggest smile he’s ever seen. 

“Gran!” Lucy throws herself at her. 

“Oof.” Ma laughs and embraces her. “Hey, kid.” 

Emma sits up with Lucy still in her arms and looks up at him. He doesn’t know what to say. What would even begin to cover it. 

“Help me up, would you?” She says as Lucy untangles herself. “I’m still a little woozy from Ivy’s cocktail.” 

Henry gets to his feet and extends a hand to her. The other to mom and pulls. Pulls until they’re both in his arms. It’s been so long. So long, so long. He’d been a boy last time they’d done this and he basks in their affection all the same. 

“Oh kid,” Ma exhales against his chest. “You got so big.” 

“He did. He really did.” Mom laughs and it fills him. All the way up. To hear them like this, to have them. Mom and Ma.

“Dad, you’re hogging them!” Lucy tells him with a stomp of her heel. 

“Well you better get in here then!” Henry says, feeling the ache of a smile on his cheeks.

Mom takes her hand and ma makes sure she’s squashed between them. Maybe a minute passes, he knows by the beat of his heart. Until Lucy is squirming and they’re laughing. Laughing until reality finds them with the cold wind. 

“So...what’s the plan now?” He asks, as mom keeps a steady hand on Emma. 

“We owe Ivy an ass-kicking,” Ma says, puffing up her chest. “I call that a good enough plan.” 

“Yes!” Lucy says excitedly. At that he catches his mom raising a brow, just like he is. “What?”

“Aren’t we forgetting something?” Mom nods towards a container. 

Her eyes burn with violet. Bright with magic and power. She flexes her fingers and the magic spreads until she stands taller. And Ma. She is enthralled. Absolutely taken at the sight of her. She whips out a rag from her back pocket and wraps it around a bottle of accelerant. 

“Want to do the honors, Your Majesty?” With a pull of her own silver white magic she opens the container’s door. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” Fire springs in between her fingers, into the tallest flames he’s seen her produce. “Stand back, Lucy. Henry, that means you too.” 

“But...” Lucy begins.

“No arguing with your grandmother, kid.” Ma says with a wink as Henry takes her by the shoulders. 

Ma throws the can as hard and fast as she can and mom follows it with two fireballs. Orange and blue sprout from the ground. Crawl up the walls and burn everything in their path. He could have missed it because of the heat and fire. Could have missed his mom kissing ma, leaning into her with all that she has. He looks away as conspicuously as he can. Coughs when he thinks it prudent and polite. He spies a blush on his mom’s cheeks as she comes to take Lucy’s hand.

“We should get going.” She mumbles, turning an even deeper shade of pink. 

Heny lets them go ahead as he hangs back with Emma. He scratches at the back of his neck and bites down on his lip. Four, five steps and he sees her running a nervous hand through her hair.

“So...you and mom, huh?”

“I...we..umm..yeah,” Now it’s her turn to turn red. To the tip of her ears. “Me and your mom.” 

“Took you long enough.” He tells her with a nudge to her ribs. 

“We, it kinda happened…” Ma is practically squirming away.

“We don’t need to get into specifics.” Henry clears his throat and keeps his eyes looking ahead.

“Thank God.”

“Would you guys hurry up?!” Lucy looks back at them, her brows knitting together. “We have a villain to beat!” 

They all truly belong to each other. 

* * *

The back of Emma’s head still tingles, the tips of her fingers feel tender. Guess it comes from being woken from a curse by her true loves. One big blast of magic, pure power coursing through her body. That still burning kiss laced with Regina’s violet had set a fire down her spine. She’s overflowing with it. Magic. Fire. There was never a better time to go finish a fight. 

A large cut in the fence is waiting for them when they return. Jamilah sitting on the bug’s hood. Bolt cutters on the verge of slipping off her grasp. 

“Don’t I get invited to fireworks anymore?” She eyes them as they come through the fence. “Can’t set a fire in my backyard without me knowing about it, Regina.” 

Regina’s shoulders relax as she takes the bolt cutters away from her. 

“Last-minute decision, Mila.” It’s good to see them like this. That easiness sitting untouched. 

“A believable lie I choose to forgive.” Jamilah jumps off the Bug and comes to stand in front of Emma. “And you must be who I think you are.”

“Emma Swan.” She re-introduces herself. It’s awkward, too awkward until Jamilah throws her head back and slaps her arm. 

“You’re alright.” There isn’t much that has changed about her, maybe the spark in her eye is brighter. “Let me guess, you’re about to storm into Drizella’s fortress of a tower?”

“More or less.” Henry replies, bobbing his head. “Are you up for a maneuver from the good old days?”

Emma sees Lucy practically bouncing with excitement, and it doesn’t hurt. Not anymore. That she wasn’t there to see this being built. This familiarity. She can only look forward now, shedding remorse as she does. 

“You lead the vanguard and my crew and I close in from the rear?” Jamilah smirks as she stretches her back. “Captain Darling, back to terrorizing the unworthy. You’ll enjoy this, Swan.”

“I think I might.” Emma replies, thinking of the burn of the magic she still feels. Of the touch of Regina’s lips on hers.

“Have you spoken with Tiana?” Regina rolls her eyes at her, only pretending for the sake of her reputation.

“You mean if Her Majesty has given me the all clear?” Her tone, Emma recognizes it too well, is meant to hide. “She suggested I sit this one out…”

“Which you are disregarding completely.” 

“Obviously.” Henry adds with a nod. “How long until you get the crew together?”

“Some forty minutes, at most.” Jamilah pulls out her phone from her pocket. “My notifications are already blowing up.”

“Good, that should give us enough time for the first strike.” Emma crosses her arms. “We should go if we want to stop her from streaming. Curse is broken but we can’t be too careful.”

This time. This time Emma picks up on Regina’s gaze, sure of what it means. Whether it makes her melt or preen with pride, she doesn’t know. 

“It’s good to have you back, ma.” Henry says as he pulls her into a one-armed hug. 

Lucy follows, squeezing at her waist with all she has. Mumbles something she can’t fully make out about grandmothers. Two last squeezes before Henry and Lucy get into the car. A thumbs up and they’re ready to go.

Emma goes to unlock her own door but finds Jamilah leaning against it.

“I…I spoke with Alice as soon as the curse broke,” she begins as she glances at Regina. “She’s doing alright. Is staying away for the time being. And I owe you my thanks. Both of you.” 

Emma nods and tries slapping her arm. Returning the gesture that only gets her a look of exasperation.

“Now, how about we get some good old fashioned revenge?” Regina asks, as she hits the bug’s roof. 

“Oh, I didn’t know how much I missed this.” And with that Jamilah sets off to the docks. 

It’s a short enough drive to Belfry’s. To the freshly painted, newly remodelled part of the neighborhood. To the tower that stands like an eyesore among the older buildings. Lights are dancing on the rooftop and that’s where Ivy will be. If any of her guests are actually aware that a curse has broken or if they’re just outsiders pulled into a world they don’t understand, Emma doesn’t know. Whoever, whatever they are. They are not winning tonight. 

“Ready to go save the day?” Regina asks as she unbuckles her seat belt. 

“Always.” Emma knows she’s grinning by her skipping pulse.

She has to wait a moment, brace herself against Regina. Feel her heart keep skipping those beats, watch her son’s face light up. Jacinda and Sabine running towards Henry. Jacinda never does slow down. Not until Henry catches her. Spins her around and kisses her. The look on his face, that glow that can’t be rivaled. It makes everything worth it. To see him picking up Lucy and squishing her face between the two of them. Emma would do this all over again. 

“They really are good together.” 

“Yeah, they are.” Regina whispers, lips lightly grazing her cheek.

“Regina!” Jacinda rushes to her side and throws her arms around her neck.

“Oh thank the heavens,” Sabine exhales. “Not that I don’t trust our skills but we kind of need the big guns on the job.” 

“Trust me Tia, mom and ma are as big as they come.” Henry tells her. “Now, Lucy…”

“I’m staying hidden and safe, I know, dad.” She breathes out with a smile. “I’ve done this before.”

Emma spots them, just behind Lucy. Like sharks smelling blood in the water. Three officers in uniform, hand on their hips. Their eyes are clear, enchantment free. That tells her all she needs to know about them. Who they were before Hyperion Heights. Who they are now. Emma acts on instinct, before they can speak. Give them no room to reach for their guns. She throws her magic at them, tosses them against a wall. Twice. Doesn’t lower her guard until she’s sure they’re unconscious. 

“No kidding.” She says as she throws a look of approval her way. 

“Guess we can expect quite the welcome up there.” Regina's eyes burn with magic as she looks up. 

“Nothing we can’t handle.” He smiles so different now. Now that he’s their Henry Mills again.

“Lucy, mi amor, I need you to go now.” Jacinda kisses her forehead and sends her off with a slap to her behind. It’s only until she’s well out of sight that Jacinda breaks the locked glass door with a well placed kick.

The alarm wails and wails as they fall into position. It could be odd how easy it comes. 

How natural it is for Henry and Jacinda to flank Sabine as she and Regina take the back. Security guards swarm the gates with their deep blue uniforms and ear pieces. 

“Hen, on your right!” Jacinda tells him as she sidesteps a guard heading her way. 

Her son. Their son punches to break noses, Emma discovers. Thumb up front, like she taught him. Jacinda is quick, footwork Emma has only ever seen in professionals. Quick to slide, and find weak ankles. Sabine seems to have mastered the art of using any object in her vicinity as a weapon. With magic pumping through her veins as she watches Regina lazily flick her wrist with violet, Emma is hit with belonging. The certainty that this is where she is meant to be. Right beside them, watching their backs. Weaving silver white into her punches, dodging bulky men charging at her. It isn’t long until there is a pile of unconscious men in uniform all over the lobby.

When they reach the elevator and the soft music surrounds them they break out in a laugh. 

“Really?” Emma snorts when the jazz version of an pop old song starts on a high note.

“Drizella takes her banality-of-evil theme a step too far sometimes.” Regina says as the floors ping and they go up. 

“Completely tasteless as usual.” Sabine agrees as she lies back against the back wall and takes a deep breath. “It’s been a while since we’ve done this.”

Jacinda nods and leans against Henry. For one, two, three seconds and the doors open. 

To the sound of acoustic guitars and a voice that is barely there. Whispering against the music. The alarm doesn’t ring up here, just the winter wind and the music. Champagne flutes in everyone’s hands and a sickly sweet smell. Emma recognizes some of the faces from Ivy’s winter wonderland. And none of them react to them at first. But then come the looks, the would-be-sneers. 

“This is an invitation-only event.” Caroline or Natalie tells them over thick-rimmed glasses and an overpriced blowout. “I suggest you leave.” 

“Make me.” Fire springs to Regina’s palms, and she revels in watching the woman stumble and run. 

“Happy?” Emma stretches her fingers before curling them back into fists. 

“Not quite yet.” Regina drags it out into a smirk, voice so low that she wonders how did it take them years to get it together. 

“Someone call the cops!” It comes from the middle of the party and the rest of the crowd begins to agree. 

“Already done,” Ivy says as she takes her place behind a microphone. “They assured me a special unit is on its way up.”

Electricity bounces from one hand to the other just as the orange and blue reignite in Regina’s hands, ready to hit Ivy with everything they got. But then she is raising her finger, clicking her tongue at them.

“You wouldn’t want to harm these good and innocent people, would you?” Her expression finds practiced softness, feigned sympathy. 

“I think they hardly qualify as that.” Jacinda mutters at her side. 

“Then step down with dignity, Ivy,” Sabine steps up like she would have in a battlefield. “End this now and there won’t have to be a fight.” 

“Me? I was having a perfectly lovely time at my welcome party. You decided to trespass on my property. Attack my staff and harass my guests. I hope you choose to go peacefully when they cuff you and your little band of misfits.” 

“You entitled, insignificant overgrown brat.” The fire in Regina’s hands burns hotter, hotter. “Too weak to--”

Her words are cut short by a man with an untrimmed beard, wearing a vest that is a size too small for him. By his drink being thrown in Regina’s face. Her jaw locks, and if he intended to put out the flames, he only fanned them.

“OK, that’s it.” Emma says ready to clock him. Only to be beaten to the punch by Henry. 

“What?” He shrugs his shoulders when they gape at him. “No one throws a drink at my mom and gets away with it.” 

The elevator pings and the sound of police-issued boots hit Emma’s ears. Ivy wasn’t bluffing about the special unit. Ivy who isn’t anywhere to be found. Lost among identical haircuts and expensive coats. 

“Looks like you’re out of luck.” The punched man in the vest spits out from the floor. 

They are dressed in navy blue, short cropped hair. An emblem Emma doesn’t recognize is monogrammed on their sleeves. They must be some sort of old militia from Concordia. Sitting here, at the Hyperion Heights precinct. Ready to resurface, waiting for the call.

“Spread out!” The apparent commanding officer shouts. “We won’t lose this time!” 

If they are going to win this they need to get to Ivy. It takes a glance for Regina to catch on. They’re reaching for each other’s hand when the emergency exit door bursts open. Jamilah is leading the charge, newly polished hook secured on her forearm. Steel bat in her hand. Wearing the most satisfied smirk Emma has ever seen on her face. 

“It’s been a while since we got to punch the daylights out of you asses,” she barks out with a laugh. “Time to send you back to whatever hole you crawled out from.” 

Her crew is larger than Emma had expected. All faces Emma has come to recognize from Hyperion Heights. Evelyn King at her right, readjusting her glasses for the right. They raise their makeshift weapons up in the air followed by a war cry. 

“Now, we have to find Drizella now!” Regina locks their fingers together. 

Glass breaks. Chairs. Bodies going through tables. Nothing in Storybrooke had ever come close. Henry and Jacinda back to back, it’s almost like they’re dancing. Mirroring each other’s moves, turning in perfect synchrony. At the other end of the terrace Jamilah scratches the metal of her hook on the floor until sparks fly. Expertly igniting a line of fire on the spilled rum on the floor. Sabine, gripping a candlestick as a sword, doesn’t mind the flames at all. Crosses them like she would a puddle and pulls Jamilah by the collar of her shirt. Kisses her in the middle of all the chaos. It’s the first time Emma has seen her dumbstruck. Dumbstruck as Sabine pushes her away and gives her an order. They haven’t won. Not yet.

Emma scans all the faces. Everyone who has picked up a chair, who breaks a bottle. The so-called guests who move to attack them. All move with rolled-up sleeves and expensive bloodied shirts. Everyone but Ivy. But she wouldn’t be here. No. She’s a coward’s coward, never at a fight she could lose. Will escape if given the chance. Emma has an idea and fishes her phone out of her pocket as they run. 

“Emma, what on Earth are you doing?” 

“Getting insider information.” She calls Lucy, who picks up after one ring.

“Gran! What is it? Do you need me to come up?” Her voice echoes and at least that means she’s away from the action. Good, good.

“No, you stay put.” Emma ducks as Regina wraps a guy up in smoke and spins him away. “But you could tell me where Ivy would go if she wanted to hide.” 

“Victoria’s office! You need like a million codes to get in.”

“That won’t be a problem.” Her magic spills out to knock a woman with bad highlights off her feet. “Which floor?” 

“Thirty-three!”

“Got it! Stay safe, kid. Don’t come out until one of us comes to find you.” 

Emma doesn’t wait for Lucy to agree. Only knows to run, run because this needs to be over.

* * *

Lucy always hated this place. This tower. Her room had been a disgusting shade of pink and filled with toys she never wanted. Forty-three floors and she knew them all. Most had been empty but some began to fill up with strangers. Little by little. She hated all of it. Grey carpet and white walls. It was nothing like mom’s and Tia’s. It always smelled like a hospital in here. Except in the one place Lucy liked. The greenhouse on the fifteenth floor. The glass ceiling, the glass walls, and all the colors on the flowers made some days better. No one ever knew she came here. To dream, to imagine what it would be like to have her family back. It’s the perfect place to hide. 

Petals never stopped being red and blue in this place. Not even in winter. They are all just as soft as before. Violets and yellow flowers she remembers grew in Concordia. 

“Pretty.” Lucy takes a flower in between her fingers.

This could be the new people’s palace, she thinks. Her Tia could do it again. Abue could fill this whole place with flowers. She could talk to the stars here. Dad could put up plays. Teach again. He’d like that. Mom and gran could handle sword fighting. And Lucy could sit all day watching them. It would be better than what they had in Concordia. Everyone could come paint the walls. Dance in the hallways. Remove the carpet. Maybe she could even talk gran and abue into a light show once in a while. It’s not a dream anymore. 

Someone’s coming. Someone’s coming to find her and say it’s safe to come out. It’s all over and they can go home. Lucy bets it’s abue or gran. With magic still in their eyes. She readies herself and puts on her best smile. But. 

The steps are more of a click. The click of high heels. No one in her family is wearing them. Mom is wearing her good sneakers. Dad with his ankle boots. Tia with her clogs. Abue and gran with their hard tipped boots. No. No. Lucy hides under the flowers, covers her mouth so not even her breathing will give her away. Click, click. On the hard concrete floor of the greenhouse. Click, click until she knows they’re in here with her.

“So sorry everyone,” Comes Ivy’s voice in that stupid, stupid tone she saves for her followers. “We had some party crashers but it’s all being taken care of. How about we start answering some of those questions now?” 

Lucy hates her as much as she hates this place. Then it occurs to her, if Ivy is down here, gran and abue won’t find her in Victoria’s office. She tries to be as quiet as possible with her phone, dims the light so it won’t give her away. 

_GRANDMAS!!!! SHE’S HERE. GREENHOUSE. 15TH FLOOR._

“Of course, there will be plenty of places for the epicures among us!” Lucy rolls her eyes and silently gags at her words. “Like my little niece! She has the most peculiar taste, don’t you Lucy?” 

Suddenly she is face to face with Ivy. Her eyes are the bluest she’s ever seen them. She tries to not look at them, to crawl away from her. Because she’s learned her lesson. Ivy is dangerous, Ivy will hurt her if she can. But she can’t move. Something hot has her by the ankle. It smells like metal. Magic.

“She is so adorable, playing hide and seek in the middle of the party!” Ivy smiles as her magic makes Lucy get to her feet. Her face is squished against Ivy’s, her chin in her hand. “We have fun, don’t we?”

Magic makes her nod. Makes her smile. When she wants to scream and tell whoever is watching to snap out of it. 

“She and I might be going on a little trip sometime soon.” A nail runs down the side of Lucy’s jaw and she wishes more than anything her family would come get her. She wonders if her gran and abue even got her message. If they’re even looking at their phones.

“We are?” Lucy fights the magic to ask. 

“Yes. Just the two of us.” The way she smiles makes her feel sick. “Wouldn’t that be fun? Keep all the _trouble_ away…”

Magic wants her to agree. Say yes, yes it would be fun. But Lucy bites her lip and shakes her head. She has to be stronger than this. That’s what her family would want.

“Get away from her!” Abue. Abue steps out of the purple smoke of her magic. A scowl on her face, Lucy just wants to run to her. Be in her arms. But the magic is hotter and hotter around her.

“Looks like trouble has a way of finding us.” Ivy keeps talking to the camera. 

“You heard me, Drizella! Get away from my granddaughter.” 

“And where is your partner?” She bats her eyelashes. “Too busy cleaning your mess upstairs?” 

“I’d thought I’d even out the playing field, in the interest of fairness.” Abue swirls two fingers together, her voice as steady as it’s ever been. 

It’s only a gleam that passes next to her. Gone as soon it came. Enough for Lucy to recognize it for what it is. Gran’s eyes, cloaked under abue’s magic. Asking her to play along. 

“Do you hear that, lovelies? Hyperion Heights natives are interested in fair play. Who knew?” 

Lucy wonders if her magic is working. If anyone is still watching and deciding to pack up and leave. If outsiders needed a push to come. If they’re packing up their bags too. She feels the swoosh of gran’s magic go past her and hit Ivy. Slap the phone out of her hand and crush it. But the metal still burns Lucy’s skin. 

“Actually, we play dirty every once in a while.” Gran says, slowly becoming visible. Her eyes glowing with silver. “Keeps things interesting.”

“And now that we’ve spoiled your little plan,” Abue steps closer but Ivy’s magic only tightens around her. “Let her go. Or do we need to remind you who has the upper hand here?” 

Her heart races. So fast. Because Ivy should give up. She isn’t a match for them. Instead she laughs and runs her fingers through Lucy’s hair. 

“Oh, Regina. As if you’d try anything when I hold her in my grasp. The best you could do was your little invisibility stunt. No, I think I’ll hold onto young Lucy here.” 

“What are you doing, Drizella? You’ve lost.” 

“We got you cornered,” Gran never unclenches her fists. “There’s nowhere for you to go.” 

“I know it might seem that way to you.” Her magic tugs at Lucy’s wrist as they take two steps back. “I want to make a deal. In the interest of fairness.”

“You’re in no position to try and negotiate,” Abue scoffs. “Or did they not teach you anything at fake business school?” 

“You know, your Queen never was quick to catch onto things.” Ivy tells gran with a sigh. “Or your son for that matter. I can’t tell you how many times they walked into my traps.” 

“Do you ever just _shut_ your mouth?” Gran raises her first, glowing with silver. 

“Ah ah,” Her hand goes back to Lucy’s chin. “You try anything and I might just poison her heart too. And no curse will save her.” 

“What the hell do you want, Drizella?” Abue’s eyes turn a deeper shade of purple. “Wasn’t looking down at us from your tower enough?” 

“You weren’t supposed to fight back. You were all supposed to leave. One by one, forget you were ever here. And you, Regina, were supposed to feel helpless as you watched it all fall apart.” More and more she is coming loose. Nothing like the Ivy from her stories and photos. “But I never considered the Savior would come. And did that set a spark in you. Now, I’m adult enough to accept I’ve lost...”

“Then hand the kid over and come away quietly.” 

“Let me finish, Savior.” She twists and twirls a lock of Lucy’s hair. “I’ve lost the battle but if you let me go, with my power and wealth intact, then I promise I won’t harm a hair on Lucy’s head.” 

Lucy fights the magic. Because she’s lying, lying. And she thinks she can do this. If she spoke to the stars then she can fight Ivy’s hold and talk.

“She wants to take me away!” 

“ _What?!”_ The magic in gran and abue’s eyes look like it could burn if touched. 

“I was getting to that. Mother never did correct this horrible habit of hers.” Lucy can hear how much she is still enjoying this. “To ensure you don’t try anything stupid, like try and capture me to sit judgement, I’ll take Lucy with me. Try anything against me and I’ll simply not hold my end of the deal. Do as I say and she gets to return to you.” 

“ _Coward_.” The word could cut with the sharpness abue adds to it. “Using a child as a shield!”

“You are out of your damn mind if you...” 

“You don’t have a choice.” Ivy pulls something out of her pocket. “My mistake, really, I shouldn’t have it made it sound like you did.” 

A magic bean. It’ll open a portal to another world. It could be years before they find her. Maybe time will run faster there. And mom. Dad. They won’t find her until she is older. So much older. No. No. Ivy tosses the bean behind them, against the glass wall. A black hole opens, the sounds of another world are already reaching her ears. 

And she knows. Lucy knows she has to fight back. She uses all her willpower. Thinks of how strong gran and abue are. How mom, dad and Tia are upstairs winning. And she feels a pop, a break in Ivy’s magic. Lucy does what she’s learned from her family. She kicks Ivy hard in the shins and jumps away from her. Abue’s and gran’s magic reaches for her, the violet turning red and the silver fading into gold. It pulls her back, so softly that Lucy almost misses it. It’s nothing like the metal grip of Ivy’s. It’s cinnamon, apples and honey. 

Ivy’s eyes go wide. She will escape. Jump into the portal and they’ll always know she’s out there. Waiting to return. And she does. Ivy falls back into the darkness of the portal. A stupid, stupid smirk on her face.

“Don’t let her get away!” Lucy tells them as the portal circles on itself.

“Have a little faith in us, kid.” Gran says as her magic laces and laces with abue’s. 

A braid of gold and crimson. That dives into the darkness and searches. They begin to move their wrists in a rhythm Lucy knows they haven’t practiced. It’s like they’re pulling on a fishing net. Like they’ve been doing this their whole life. They pull and pull until a grunt comes through the darkness. Followed by a couple of curses and Ivy is brought back. Like a captured fish. She wriggles like one. Hair wild on her face. Eyes wider than they were before. Ivy’s scared. 

_Good._

“Woah.” Lucy says as gran and abue’s magic glows and glows red and golden.

“You never got to learning that, Drizella,” Abue clenches her fist and it only tightens the magic on Ivy. “Though I suppose that isn’t the sort of thing _you_ could ever learn.” 

“Nothing to say, huh?” Gran has never looked this pleased. “Not even a ‘and I would have gotten away too’ to really be the cherry on top?” 

She only glares at them, the blue in her eyes extinguishing. Her shoulders slump and Ivy doesn’t try and fight her restraints. The portal closes and the greenhouse is just a greenhouse again. All glass, all green. Red, and blue. And Lucy gets it then. Really gets it. 

They are finally home.


	13. An Epilogue (Finally)

Mercy. Drizella had asked for it. In fact, she had asked the whole court to look inside themselves The makeshift court gathered at the community center. Two long days where Tiana had sat at the head of table and let Ivy speak. Regina had sat to her right, kept quiet as she looked at Drizella. She’d known she would be unable to forget, forget the poison and curses. Perdonar pero nunca olvidar. But beyond that, Regina had watched her carefully. Studied Drizella’s expressions, the furrow of her brow. The stillness on her lips, the way she had averted her gaze. How her fingers played with a piece of loose thread. No remorse, only regret at having lost. It was never about revenge with Drizella, not that thing Regina had chased after for decades. What had her uprooting half the Enchanted Forest to this land. No. Drizella only ever wanted to be where they’d sat. So did the people who’d risen up when she called. Hyperion Heights would not be safe so long as they stayed. 

The court had passed its judgement. Swiftly and without objection. Banishment. According to the laws of Concordia, it’s what they deserved. No more, no less. Regina had played with the word in her tongue, destierro. Last time she’d spoken it the word had been an offer not a sentence. It was to be carried out as soon as possible. And Hyperion Heights should be hidden from them. All police, everything that would collect on people’s misery, abolished. 

Emma had been so careful, so gentle with her touch as Tiana read the sentence. She’d known it wasn’t over, known all that could go wrong. An escape. A portal opening with a new set of dangers. So they’d volunteered to keep the neighborhood safe. Both of them, with no titles. Just joined hands and the magic that flowed between them. Magic that requested more, more than they had ever asked before. Magic that spoke to the stars and could ask for protection. It always takes more to protect, to shield than to hurt.

It had required two nights, two long talks with the stars to get the rhythm down for the spell. 

Be like a glass, a glass dome. Found by those who need it, those who look for it. Hidden from foes and those who wish us harm. 

Emma had planted her feet on the asphalt, sweat dripping down in the December cold. And Regina had felt herself grin, at the sighs of their magic combining. Weaving itself onto the air, glow and glow stronger. Safe and hidden from harm. 

Drizella had been the first one to cross the line. Without her power. With nothing to her name, out to the muddled world. Regina had watched her go and seen in the reflection of her eyes that Hyperion Heights had hidden itself from her. It had snowed that day and the air had smelled of frost. 

Regina breathes in, feels the air and the scents that perfume it now. Tierra mojada, grass and the first day of Spring. For new things to bloom, to push themselves out of the soil. Grow, grow with the light. A day for healing hearts and bringing a mother and daughter back together. With a potion made from sea water, daffodils and a pinch of blood from Alice and Tiana. They’re gathered at their rooftop, basking in the afternoon Sun. Overlooking the neighborhood and feeling the breeze.

“And you’re absolutely sure you can do this?” Milah asks, crossing her arms over her chest. “How do you know it will work? I tried everything in Concordia, how can it…”

“Captain Darling, don’t tell me you’ve finally found your one fear?” Tiana laughs and presses a kiss to her temple. 

“Death? I’ve had it all along.” 

“You’re not dying,” Emma tells her as she rolls up her sleeves. “We got this.”

Milah raises a brow and looks between them both. 

“Maybe it’ll help if you explain each step?” Tiana lays her chin on Milah’s shoulder and uncrosses her arms. “Again.”

Regina nods as she brings the porcelain bowl holding Milah’s remedy. Emma rolls up towels around to help support it. 

“The poison Tremaine used on you had no cure in Concordia, that much is true.” She swirls two fingers in the air above them. “It requires more than one type of true love to accompany you every step of the way.” 

“That’s where I come in.” Emma scratches the back of her neck as she looks at her, still flushing after so many months. Years. “I mean, where _we_ come in.”

“Right. Her magic is derived from true love and we share true love,” Regina clears her throat and rolls her eyes at Milah’s look. “Which means the poison won’t infect us as we take your heart.” 

“The potion…” Milah drops her shoulders and leans back against Tiana.

“Daffodils for rebirth, salt water from your first love,” Regina smiles, tries not to tease as she reaches for Milah. “Blood from your true loves. Brewed in Spring just to be on the safe side.”

“Alright, alright,” Her friend bats her hand away. “I get it.” 

Emma barks a laugh, so loud that she has to tilt her head back. Only composes herself when Milah glares at her. It’s such a strange thing, to be at a place where Regina never expected she’d find herself. Her heart beats and beats, to know she can call this place hers. Call them hers.

“So are we ready?” Emma ties her blonde hair back, and grins. 

Milah nods and closes her eyes. Tiana holds her closer, her touch soft on her skin.

With her heart beating away Regina takes Emma’s hand, knowing full well she’s gazing. Knows what it is she is saying with it. Emma rubs circles on the back of her hand. _I know, I know._ Regina remembers what it was like to plunge her hand into Emma’s chest, to have her willingly give up her heart. Agree for it to be broken. She remembers how she had cradled Emma’s heart in between her fingers, how it had taken all of her to mend it back. To use every unspoken word, every secret to fix what had been broken. Now Regina thinks of moving moons, of postcards, breakfast at their apartment, lazy mornings, Friday night dinners and lighting candles. She thinks of the endless well of them as their joined hands reach into Milah’s chest and feel for her beating heart. Cradle as Regina cries at the thought that they’re able to do this. Suck the poison out of their friend.

“Fuck.” Milah grunts as she sees her pulsating heart in their hands.

It’s a sickly yellowish green. Skipping a beat here and there. Regina wonders how Milah could have walked around like this. She remembers the days where she could not move, sick with a fever because she had come too close to Alice. Because every cure had failed. They carefully submerge it in the potion. Hold their breath as the daffodils swim around its greens and yellows. 

“How...how do we know if it’s working?” Tiana’s voice wavers for the first time in a long time.

“Mila will tell us.” Regina says, touching a finger to the surface of the potion. 

And seafoam begins to form. A deep turquoise with a white beard, like the Sea on a Summer’s day. Daffodils twist and twist until their petals come loose and turn red with the blood of true love. Milah gasps and bites down on her lip. The green and yellow seep away from her heart, drop by drop. Until it’s glowing a shade of perfect red. 

“I…” Her eyes water as Tiana kisses her hair. “I feel. I feel whole again. Complete.” 

“Time to put it back then.” Emma whispers, her chest rising and falling in relief. Happiness.

They fish it out of the water. It beats and beats, never skipping. Never faltering. Regina thinks of Alice waiting downstairs, five floors down. Thinks of her curled up on their couch, with Milah on the phone every night. A girl who had grown up wishing for freedom only to lose her mother to it. Milah’s heart clicks into place when Regina imagines their future. Alice and her music, setting up sails and manning ships. Filling her mouth full of beignets, sugar on her lips. Milah wrapping her in her arms and Tiana teaching her how to sharpen her knives. Regina’s hand stays in Emma’s after it’s done and Milah is rubbing at her chest. As if she still can’t believe it. 

Her phone pings a second later than everyone else’s. Once. Twice. Two more times. It can only mean one thing. Regina dries her hands and unlocks her screen.

She shakes her head. 

_Grandmas, did you do it? We’re staaaaaarving._

_Luce, that’s rude._

_BUT! Mom isn’t letting ANY of us snack._

_Sara Lucia..._

“I know what you’re gonna say,” Emma tells her as she types in a reply. “They do not take after me.” 

_Yeah, you dorks. Come up. And don’t forget the hot sauce!_

“Of course they don’t take after you,” Regina says, unable to help her smile. “It’s why they won’t rush through that door at any second now.” 

Two. Three minutes and there is no one bursting through the door. Just a shy creak until it fully opens. Alice keeps her hand on the knob, wearing red today again. Tiana had braided her hair like Milah’s last night, into thin delicate braids. For today, because today is the day. Alice is still waiting for that moment where Milah doubles over in pain, the moment where she can still run down those stairs to save her life. Her feet ready to run, laces tight in her boots. 

“It’s alright, my sweet girl.” Milah tells her as she walks towards her. Without counting her steps. “I’m healed.” 

“Are you sure?” Her lip quivers.

“As sure as I love you.” 

Alice then runs and wraps her arms around her mother’s neck. Breathes her in with her eyes closed and the whole of her shaking. 

“Mama,” She sobs. “I’ve missed you so much. For too long.” 

“Nothing will keep us apart again,” Milah lifts her face and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Not ever.” 

Se le hace un nudo en la garganta, watching them cling to each other. Regina had watched this scene go wrong so many times before and it feels like watching a miracle. Emma sneaks an arm around her waist and brushes her lips against her temple. 

“Who’s ready for abue’s tapado?” Lucy says as she comes onto the terrace with the bowl of rice Regina had set aside earlier. The lid covering it wobbles dangerously with each of her steps. 

Alice and Milah break apart and wipe at their eyes and cheeks. Grin and then laugh like Regina has never heard them do before. 

Tiana shakes her head with a smile and rushes to take the bowl off Lucy’s hand. 

“I’ll take that before you trip, bebe.” 

“ _I_ have never tripped in my life, Tia.” Lucy says indignantly but relinquishes the rice all the same. 

“You cannot pin this one on me.” Emma says as she moves to set the china on the table. 

“Table, table. Someone get the table!” Henry follows with a panicked expression as he carries the steaming pot of tapado. 

“Hijo, you should have said.” Regina flicks her wrist and has her magic safely carry the soup to its place. 

“You know how he is,” Ella tells her with the fondest of eyerolls. “Never backs down from a challenge. However ridiculous it might be.” 

“Hey!” Henry says equally as indignant as Lucy

“Sounds like someone I know.” She hums and then moves to find her seat at the table. 

“Hey!” Emma says, coming back to meet her, and Regina kisses her before she can say more.

“Ridicula.” She says, feeling that endlessness again. 

Regina marvels at it as they sit on mismatched chairs. At a table that had to be made bigger to fit all of them. One that leaves no one out. Marvels at her son spooning white rice into bowls, at her granddaughter getting red lips from the hibiscus in her drink. At her daughter-in-law passing down their spoons. At her friends, smiling so wide. Hands clasped together. Regina leans against Emma’s side and smiles. 

“We did it.” Emma murmurs, as if she knows what is going through her mind. 

Because the same runs through hers. 

“We did.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**THE END**

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I can't believe we've reached the end on what used to be such a big part of my weekly routine. Thank you so much for reading and I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> [Here's a link to where you can learn more about which places that need our support ](https://twitter.com/MNFreedomFund/status/1265735264242225152?s=20)
> 
> [More places for you to look into! ](https://twitter.com/MatthewACherry/status/1266895545022287872?s=20)   
> 


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